Happy Wife, Broken Life
by SuperUltraMegaMiko
Summary: They tied the knot. There's no going back now, no matter how bad it gets... Right?
1. Just Married

"We made it through the big day England!" France says with a big smirk oh his face. His black suit is a perfect clash when compared to England's white dress... Well someone had to wear it.  
England looks embarrassed, he is being carried bridal style by France into the crowd of countries that showed up. And the dress thing. "Not quite, we still have to do the reception..."

"Romano! Fratellone France finally got married! Doesn't this make you happy?" Italy exclaims to Romano, shaking his arm. Romano shrugs and rolls his eyes. "I only came because you made me... And for the free food... You bastard." Romano replies, refusing to show happiness despite secretly wanting to.  
"This is a happy time for everyone here!" Hungary proclaims, clapping madly.  
Austria claps along. "This is reminding me of something I wish to forget..."  
"And WHO'S the one that married them!?" Prussia shouts loudly, making a bold pose as he somehow glows.  
Spain seems to be laughing with joy uncontrollably.

England covers his eyes, not wanting to look at the embarrassment the others are putting themselves into. "Let's just finish this, please."  
"You got it my darling!" France dashes to the reception.  
"Let's go people!" Prussia points the way to the reception.

* * *

France uses his fork to tap his almost empty glass of wine. He doesn't have his first layer of his suit on anymore, as England is using it to cover his embarrassment all over his face.  
"Alright, you all know what you're here for, so I shall cut to the chase... Mainly so England can get out of the dress." France starts up a speech. "Simply, thank you all for coming. I don't think it could have gone any better than it did."  
Despite being a little too embarrassed to show his entire face, England stands up to add to the speech. "I actually never thought that this was going to happen... I'm glad it did... I hope this lasts." England says.

Austria and Hungary can't help but give England some harsh glares.

"... Yes, and that's it! Short and Sweet... We have all eaten yes? Now it's time for dance!" France proclaims, then pulling England onto the dance floor with him. France then starts up a partner dance. He pulls England closer to him by the ass, England blushes and stares into France's eyes.  
"Wearing the dress is not that bad... It's the fact that I'm male and doing it in front of friends..." England admits.  
France chuckles a little. "Don't worry about that, they don't care what you wear, as long as you look good in it. And you obviously do." He compliments.  
"You dolt! You're just saying that so I'm not embarrassed!" England replies back.  
France laughs a little more and gently holds England's chin. "No, I'm being serious." France then pulls England's face towards his, so he can kiss England, which he softly does.  
England goes back to being silent, now simply wanting to enjoy his dance with France.

* * *

"Ugh, how are people still here?" England asks, annoyed.

"Veeeeeeeee... hic!" Italy trips over nothing and lands face first on a table.  
"Veneziano, you've had too much wine... Even for someone like you. So STOP DRINKING IT AND LET ME TAKE YOU HOME YOU BASTARD!" Romano yells at Italy, while also shaking him out of anger.  
Italy just smiles and pours the rest of the wine in the bottle he was holding all over Romano. Romano growls and uses a nearby napkin to try and dry himself of the wine.

"I didn't want to use force but you leave me with no choice..." Romano clenches his fist and knocks Italy out with a swift punch, then picking up his unconscious body and exiting.

"What can I say? We like our wine a little too much..." France laughs.  
"Can we leave now?" England asks.  
"Oh, yes we can." France picks up England once more and carries him away.

* * *

"Now we are all alone..." France gently places England on the bed of a hotel room.  
"Can't we just go straight home? There are other people here... In the rooms around us... And below us..." England asks, wanting some privacy.  
France simply smiles and sits next to him. "Of course, but it's a little too late now." He then starts taking off the rest of his suit. "Let's rest here for the night, then we can go home."

England stands up and takes off his dress. "Ugh, wonder when this will be used again..."  
"We could always give it to someone that needs it, or keep it for some roleplay." France laughs a little bit, folding his suit and packing it away.

"Ugh, I don't have anything comfy to sleep in..." England pouts a little, standing next to the bed in his underwear.  
France then walks up to him, completely nude. "You could just sleep nude, my dear." He offers, slowly pulling down England's plain white underwear. England is quick to pull them and slaps France on his thigh. "I know what you're thinking of and... Not now... I'd rather do it where no one can hear us..." England says, blushing a little.  
"Oh, you'd like to be a little kinky then?" France smiles, hugging England from behind then kissing his cheek. "I got it. So, let us sleep then!" France then pulls England down onto the bed with him and drapes the blanket over both of them.

"Goodnight my newly crowned Prince."  
"Sleep well you big oaf."


	2. Simple Newlywed activities

"France, please put me down. I don't have to be carried everywhere you know..." England sighs, then getting gently put down on the ground as he requested.  
"Well, this is our new home! Shall we go in?" France rhetorically asks, pulling out the key and unlocking it.

"Oh, I noticed that none of your brothers were at the wedding England... Any reason why?" France asks out of the blue, trying to get some conversation going.  
"Well, it WAS held in Italy for whatever reason, I guess they thought passing through France was too much of a hassle." England sighs, then hearing the phone in the kitchen ring. "Wait we already have a combine phone number?" He asks himself before rushing to answer it. "France and England residence, who is this?" He asks.

"Brother! Bro! How are you? You doing good? Sorry we couldn't make it- HEY STOP PUSHING IN HE ISN'T EVEN REPLYING! PUT HIM ON SPEAKER ANYWAY! Fine! Just calm yourselves... So how is our little brother?"

England's face looks unamused. France looks confused. "Uh, who is it Mon chéri?" France asks reluctantly.

"How the hell did you gits even get this number? We only got married yesterday." England asks, already annoyed.  
"Good question! Boys, how DID we get this number anyhow? What do you mean you don't know? You were the one that dialled it! I just punched in random numbers! So you just guessed? Pretty much! Hey should we ask for his address since he doesn't reside in the palace anymore."  
England is fuming, and France notices this. "Ah! England... How about I speak to them?" He offers. England takes the offer and hands the phone over to France immediately. "Hello Gentlemen... Uh, you are all male right?"  
"Oh! Is this France? Of course it's France who else talks with that accent? Doesn't Italy? No he doesn't... Oh, anyway... We're England's brothers! Yeah! Hey! We should talk one at a time... Let's not confuse him..." The call goes silent for a little bit.

"I'm Scotland. I'm one of the two that has their countries connected to England, I reside on his head. Heh." Scotland introduces himself.  
"And I'm Wales! I'm connected to him too, but I'm to his west." Wales greets.  
"Northern Ireland here! Things are a little tricky with me... I still see myself as a brother to England but Ireland himself doesn't... Even though I'm connected to him. Ehhh..." Northern Ireland laughs at himself.  
"Nice to... Quote-unquote meet you fellows... I'll be sure to visit you men sometime in the future, yes? And maybe you three would get along nicely with my brothers... Just don't let them drink at your weddings, if you ever have them." France replies.  
"Oh, how's England doing?" Wales asks.

France looks around the Kitchen, England has wandered off.  
"He's perfectly fine by my standards... But he's going to be more than fine soon." France replies, with a smirk on his face.  
"What do you even mean by that? Fine to great perhaps? Oh no, look what you did! You ruined it! Now he will be confused on which of us is talking again! I just wanna talk to England! You had that chance and you blew it Wales! It's your fault too!" France then hangs up, knowing they will probably bicker for a while longer.

"Mon chéri, where are you?" France asks. He gets no reply.  
"Well, some luggage still needs to be brought in... Doesn't it?" He asks himself. "I know, I'll wait for him in the bedroom..." He quietly laughs to himself, then walking off.

* * *

"Urgh! Where did France go?" England asks himself. "It's almost time for dinner and-" Leaping from the closet comes France, grabbing onto England. England jumps in his skin but quickly realises it's France once he feels his ass being pinched.  
"We are going to do it... Right now."  
"Wait what?!"

France is quick to pin England down on the bed, then he rolls England over so they're face to face. England begins blushing.  
"Ah, you're so cute when you blush..." France comments, then giving England a quick kiss on the lips before pulling England's shirt off and then his own. "You're starting to heat up already..." France laughs a little as he gently grabs onto England's nipples, then pinching them a little.

"Oh god France..." England tried to resist but despite his best efforts he was quickly caught under France's command.  
"That's a good boy... You want to get straight to the point don't you?" France chuckles, pulling off his pants to reveal he's already hard.  
England's face lights up and stares at France's Eiffel Tower. "My gosh... I've never seen you..." England can't bring himself to finish the sentence, quickly becoming hard himself.  
"That was easy, wasn't it?" France comments, then rolling England onto his stomach and pulling him up a little. "Don't get too tense now, just enjoy it."

France grabs England's Big Ben and starts stroking it, then entering England. England flinches in response but seems to be enjoying the handy too much. "Admit it, you're enjoying this."

England holds his words for as long as he can, but he admits to it eventually. "Yes..." He says, followed by a moan.

After 10 minutes you'd think they'd be finished...

"We're not done yet England... " France says, despite England having blown his load already. England looks exhausted. "Now what?" He asks, just wanting to rest at this point.  
"Don't worry, soon..." France quickly kisses England then starts running a finger up England's stomach. This causes England to tense up as he feels a sudden sensation, since his sensitive points are being gently touched.

Once France has his finger up to England's neck, he flicks his finger off and lets out a relived yell as he unleashes, still in England, but quickly pulling out and landing on top of England, then kissing him all over his neck. "Wasn't that fun?" France laughs, not sounding out of breath.  
"You sure know how to do it well..." England compliments. "But now I'm too tired to bother with dinner." England sighs, then yawning.  
"Don't worry, I'll make breakfast tomorrow morning..." France says, kissing England one more time before pulling the sheets over them.  
"And I was hoping I wouldn't have to wash the sheets so soon..." England sighs, closing his eyes to rest.


	3. Cooking something edible

"Good Morning England!" France yells to wake England up as he slams open the bedroom door, dressed in an elegant blue robe with slippers that are red and white, just incase you couldn't tell that he was actually France.  
England groans but sits himself up in bed. "Bonjour France..." He says, followed by a yawn. Once he becomes more focused, he notices France isn't in bed, but rather in the doorway and holding a plate of breakfast. "... What is that? That's not eggs and bacon..." England comments, not used to France cooking breakfast for him yet.

France laughs. "Well your breakfast is rather terrible and boring so I made you breakfast for once!"

"Thanks for dissing my cooking..." England replies. "And why did you get up earlier than me anyway?"  
"Hm? Oh, that must be because I practically drained you of all your energy last night, remember? Wasn't that fun?" France answers.  
"O-oh yeah... That..." England yawns again, then taking the plate of breakfast and sticking his face in it, probably just wanting to sleep for a bit longer rather than eat.  
"Ok now that's just rude to the food." France says, folding his arms.

* * *

England steps out of the shower, then grabs a towel to dry his hair. He looks to the side and France is there, just staring at him. It's awkward silence for a good 10 seconds.  
"Could you please stop doing that? It's making me a little uncomfortable..." England asks politely, blushing a little.

France doesn't speak a word, and continues to stare at England as if he's in paradise.

"Ugh, you idiot..." England then wraps another towel around his waist.  
"Still got that cold exterior do you?" France chuckles. "That just makes it more rewarding whenever I get on your good side..." He adds, finally moving from his spot into the shower, slapping England's behind on the way in.

* * *

England is now looking at a book filled with recipes, a cookbook. "Last time I tried a soup, didn't I burn it? But that begs the question... How did I burn it in the first place?"  
"England, what are you doing?" France asks from the doorway to the kitchen.  
"What does it look like? I'm trying to cook up some food for us. Whenever you got the chance you've cooked for me, and I think now is a good time to return the favour."

France walks up to England and eyes the cookbook. "Soup? How could you possibly mess that up?" France says, not sure if he should be afraid or relieved.  
"By burning it." England replies.  
"...Ok you need help." France grabs the cookbook and looks at the ingredients, then looks at the food England has gathered. "Uh, England... I'm pretty sure at least half of these ingredients are plastic ones..."

"What?!" England picks up the pumpkin he put on the table and tries smashing it with his fist. He manages to smash it alright, but the contents of a normal pumpkin doesn't come out, and just shards of plastic. "So it is..." England observes.  
"Look, just wait for a little bit and I'll get the proper ingredients." France insists.  
"Oh alright..." England takes his apron off, hanging it on the chair and sitting on said chair. Then the phone rings again. England sighs and gets up almost immediately. "I'll get it..." He picks the phone up and is greeted to yell-crying.  
"WAHHHH, BIG BROTHER FRANCE HELP! ARE YOU SERIOUSLY CALLING HIM? IT'S JUST A DAMN RAT YOU BASTARD, I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT!"  
"Oh, it's you two..." England sighs.  
"WAHHHH, ROMANO, SOMEONE IS HOLDING BIG BROTHER FRANCE HOSTAGE! IT'S ENGLAND YOU IDIOT!"  
England doesn't look amused.

France laughs. "I can hear Italy yelling... Just talk to them and I'll be back with some actual food to cook with." He says, then walking off.

"You two, I'm not in the mood right now. I just talked to my brothers yesterday and I think you're beating them in the annoying contest..." England growls.  
"Oh boy, a contest? Is there a prize for the winner? JUST HAND ME THE PHONE YOU BASTARD! H-hello?"  
"Hello, this is Romano, am I correct?" England asks.  
"Yes... Sorry about Veneziano, he's a bit of a baby..." Romano replies.  
"Well, some people are like that... If he apologises I'll accept it." England responds.  
"Well, I think he needs to calm down a little more first. Oh, are you two doing anything next week?" Romano asks.  
"... I'm pretty sure we're not... Why?" England asks back. He doesn't get a clear response though...

"Veneziano, get off the chair! Don't make me pull you off! But the Rat is still there! For god sake... Just come with me..."  
Then the line goes dead.  
"What was that about?" England asks himself, putting the phone back, shrugging. "No matter, they'll probably contact us again..."

* * *

"I have the ingredients!" France calls out.  
"Wah!" England almost spills his tea, but thankfully doesn't, then gently placing the cup of tea on the table. "So... I can finally start cooking Lunch?"  
"No no no, too risky. I'm helping you." France urges, setting out the ingredients and utensils on the kitchen bench. "Put your apron on!"

England does as told then walks up to the counter. "So, what do we do first?" England asks, then getting the Cook book slammed into his face, caching it as it falls.  
"Well it says we have to chop up the pumpkin..." England says, readying the pumpkin and grabbing a knife from the drawer below the bench.  
"Ah! Don't hold it like that!" France moves to standing behind England, finding it easier to help him this way. He gently grabs the knife and England's hand, getting him to hold it properly. "No wonder the chunks you cut up are always uneven..."  
England blushes out of embarrassment. "S-stop it you wanker!"  
France laughs. "I know you don't mean it... And that's why you're so cute." France gently grabs England's cheek.  
"L... Let's go back to the cooking." England says, trying to re-focus.

"Ok, the pumpkin is done. Now what?" England asks France as he looks up at him.  
"Ok, time to get out the teaspoon!" France says.

England pulls out a spoon alright, but it isn't a teaspoon.  
"By teaspoon I did not mean the type of spoon you use to stir your tea, England... My word you are hopeless at cooking..." France comments, quickly trying to find the actual teaspoon.  
"But does it really have to be that accurate? A little over or under shouldn't matter..." England comments.  
France holds out the teaspoon and smacks England on the face with it. "Of course it matters... Do you have any idea how much time I put into my food and why it tastes so... Delicious?"  
"Huh? I don't really taste anything outstanding in them..." England replies.  
"Oh... No wonder you can survive your own food, all your tastebuds are dead." France comments, then shaking his head. "Anyway, let's continue..."

* * *

 _(I don't know how to actually cook pumpkin soup so I can't go into detail, I apologise. Let's just imagine England almost ruined the soup like 6 more times and France helped him out so cute stuff happened.)_

"Wow England, I'm surprised this is... Edible. Even I thought I couldn't salvage it to be honest." France comments, as he takes a sip of the soup.  
"S-stop it France... I know I'm awful but you don't have to rub it in..." England says, with a little sigh.  
"If you want, I can give you some cooking lessons." France offers.  
"... No... It's fine. I think it's better if you just continue cooking for the both of us. It would take up less time." England replies, not wanting to admit that France's cooking is supreme.

"Ah... So it's for the best is it?" France asks to make sure, then winking.  
"I suppose..." England shrugs. "D-don't you look at me like that!"  
"I'm sorry, you just look so cute when you're flustered... Actually, when DON'T you look cute is the real question I must ask." France replies.  
"J-just shut up and eat your soup!" England responds, quickly trying to down his straight from the bowl.


	4. 100-percent Normal Family Lunch

"So, we've survived a week together now... And is it just me, or do the days now seem longer than ever?" France comments.  
England remains silent, eating his breakfast.

After an entire half minute of silence, the phone rings.

France sighs with relief. "I'll get it." He stands up and goes to pick up. "Hello?"  
"Big brother France! Ciao!"  
"... What do you want Italy?" France replies, trying not to groan.  
"Well, I know we haven't been on the best of terms lately... So me and Romano are coming over for a visit! And we're bringing gifts! like a bunch of wine, A pot that'll grow a grapevine... And Pasta!" Italy replies.  
"Of course you're bringing pasta..." France sighs. "Well, whatever. When are you coming?" France asks, now leaning against the wall.  
"Should Lunch be alright?" Italy asks.  
"... Yeah, sure..." France says, quickly hanging up the phone then sighing.

"What was that about France?" England asks with his mouth half-full.  
"Italy and Romano are coming over. I wouldn't have been able to talk them out of it, and Italy would have started crying if I said 'no' too many times so..." France explains. "They can get annoying at times."

"Is it because they're your little brothers?" England asks, now with an empty plate in front of him.  
"... Don't you guilt-trip me now." France replies with a loving sigh, he walks back to England and gives him a hug from behind. "Besides, I find you annoying and you're not my little brother." He says teasingly.  
"Y-You git!" England says to retaliate, face turning red.

* * *

"Are you sure we shouldn't cook our own lunch?" England asks, setting out the table and dragging over extra chairs.  
"Knowing Italy, he will make enough pasta to last at least a week. So there's no need." France replies, despite England turning his attention to the door.  
"Speak of the devil..."

"Ciao ciao!" Italy exclaims as he opens the door. He is carrying two bags containing something that appears heavy. Romano is behind him, carrying 5 pots of different kinds of pasta. "Why do you get the lighter load?" He groans.  
"Good Afternoon gents." England greets with a quick bow, then going over to Romano and taking two of the pots he's carrying. "All pasta goes in the kitchen, please."  
"What about the wine and pizza?" Italy asks as he lifts up the bags.  
"Did you seriously bring pizza too?" France asks, groaning.

"Are you seriously trying to question Veneziano, big brother?" Romano responds, putting the pots of pasta on the kitchen counter.  
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean Romano?!" Italy replies, taking some offence to that.  
"Stop bickering, before you start fighting." France commands. The Italy brothers then go silent.

"Anyway, who wants-a the pizza?" Italy offers, pulling out a freshly made mozzarella pizza from one of the bags and gently laying it on the table, then pulling out the wine and a pot filled with dirt from the other. "Can't forget the wine!"  
Romano grabs the pot of dirt. "This is the grapevine. Where do you want it you bastards?"  
"Does he always try to finish his sentences with the word 'bastard'?" England asks.  
"Pretty sure." France answers, then taking the pot. "I'll find a place to put it, thank you Romano." He says with a smile, then ruffling Romano's hair. Suddenly Romano jerks and slaps his hand away. "Don't touch the curl, you wine bastard!"  
France simply laughs. "Sorry."

* * *

"Honhon... Isn't it lovely to have dinner like this once more?" France questions, but making it sound like a comment. He sips his wine after asking.  
"Yeah, it's wonderful. Especially because tomato bastard has been replaced." Romano replies.  
"Aw come on, Spain ain't that bad Romano!" Italy replies, with his mouth full of pizza.  
"Italy, don't talk with your mouth full... It's rude." France reminds him, then gently poking his younger brother's cheek.  
"Yes, proper manners should be used when at a dinner table... And, we might not be having dinner but that's besides the point." England adds, siding with France.

"Okay, I think I've decided on his nickname now - Posh Bastard." Romano suddenly announces.  
"Do you have to call everyone a bastard?" England questions, somewhat annoyed.  
"Yes, because everyone's a bastard." Romano replies, ripping a chunk off of his pizza slice with his teeth, then downing it with an entire glass of wine.  
England sighs and continues eating his slice.

* * *

After a while, the Pizza seems to be all gone.  
"Now... For the pasta!" Italy proclaims, running to the kitchen then running back out with one of the bowls. It seems to be ravioli.  
"Oh come on gents, I JUST finished my Pizza... And I need to quickly go to the little boys room to empty out all that wine if you don't mind." England comments, slowly getting out of his chair to go to the bathroom. Then there's a knock on the door.

"Huh? Who's that?" France asks. "No one else was invited to lunch, were they?"

"No, they weren't..." England replies, walking to the door. He grips onto the door knob, turns it slowly and creaks it open ever so slightly. He peers to see who's outside.

"HEY BRO!"  
"OH DEAR CRUMPETS-" England stumbles back and onto the floor, looking like he just saw a ghost.  
"England!" France springs out of his chair and picks England up. "Are you okay?"  
"Put me down you git."  
"Yep, he's fine."

The door is then pushed all the way open. There stand Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales. Their hair look just as messy - if not more messy - than England's, and the colours range from Dirty blonde to a soft blonde. If you have any doubt about them being related, just take a good look at their bushy eyebrows. Wales seems a little shorter than his brothers while NI and Scotland seem a little taller.

Scotland laughs, carrying a bucket full of ice and beer. He walks up to England and France and ruffles England's hair. "Glad our surprise visit surprised you."  
"Um, we brought you some vegetables!" Wales says, holding out another bucket filled with random vegetables.  
"And that's about it. We'd probably kill France if we ended up cooking... Apparently." NI comments.

"Ciao!" Italy greets, standing up and walking over to England's brothers. "My name is Italy Veneziano! Over there is mio fratello: Italy Romano, and you seem to know France."  
"Nice to meet you Italy. I'm Scotland, that's Wales and the other one is Northern Ireland." Scotland introduces themselves. "We're England's older brothers."  
"Really? Wow! This is getting to be one big, happy family isn't it?" Italy began daydreaming. "Maybe in the future, we will even be 'Zios'!" He put emphasis on the s, as if it wasn't meant to be there.  
"Zi...o?" Scotland asks, confused.  
"It means uncle you bastard." Romano answers, having been listening in on the conversation.

France jumps in his skin at the suggestion. "No need to talk about that now, right? We haven't even had out first anniversary!" He says, nervously chuckling. "N-now, let's gather some more chairs and eat the pasta my brothers have generously made for us!" He urges, then sprinting into another room to grab some chairs, still carrying England.

* * *

"Okay, that should be enough chairs..." France says, staring at 3 chairs.  
Just at this moment, England exits the bathroom. "Of course that looks like enough chairs, there are 3 of them."  
"Took you long enough." France teases. "Now pick up a chair and help me."

The two carry the chairs toward the dining area, with England carrying two chairs.

Once the couple reach the table, it's chaos.  
"We turn our backs for like a few minutes..." England mumbles, annoyed.

Scotland already looks so drunk that he's a wine glass away from passing out, Italy is ALREADY passed out and has seemingly been thrown into the living room since he's lying face-down on one of the couches, Romano is trying to eat his ravioli in peace but NI is ruining it with what is hopefully beer, and Wales seems to have fallen asleep on the floor; it's unknown if he passed out drunk, got knocked out or just fell asleep.

"Oh, you're ba _aaa_ ck!" Scotland greets the couple, then flopping onto England.  
"My word, you smell worse than garbage! How much did you chug down in a matter of minutes?!" England responds, disgusted.  
"Yeah... That does smell terrible." France comments, using one hand to pinch his nose.

England steps out of the way, letting Scotland fall to the floor. "I'm sorry about this France... I didn't think they'd behave like this."  
"It's alright Mon Chéri, this was out of our control." France replies, then kissing England on his forehead.

As a tsundere should, England lashes out at France for this action.  
"Do you really think kissing me is appropriate in a time like this you git?! We have to fix this mess!"  
France chuckles. "That's the England I love."  
"SHUT IT AND HELP ME FIX THIS!" England puts the chairs he is carrying on the ground and picks up Wales, then runs into the living room.  
"I guess I better help... I assume we will need blankets." France assumes, running to the bedroom to get a few.


	5. The unrealistic Ikea

England yawns as he rapidly blinks his eyes, waking up.  
France is still asleep for the most part, but his hand has firmly grabbed England's ass in his sleep.

England simply looks at France's sleeping face and slaps his forehead until he wakes up.  
"Zzzz... Hon? Oh, morning..." France says with a smile.  
"You can let go of my ass now." England responds.  
"... Nah." France replies, now with a cheeky smile on his face and pulls England in for a hug, keeping a firm grip on his ass.  
England blushes. "Urk... You really wanna do it first thing in the morning?"  
"Why not?" France replies with a soft chuckle.

Suddenly, the bedroom door slams open.  
"DO EITHER OF YOU BASTARDS KNOW WHERE I CAN GET SOME DAMN COFFEE?"

"Oh, you're still here." England replies, his mood now ruined.  
"Ahaha! You still make the best cockblock Romano!" France adds.

"Of course I'm still here, I wasn't gonna drag Veneziano's ass all they way back home in the middle of the night..." Romano replies, sounding very grouchy. "Now where the fuck is the coffee? Tell me now or I'll strangle you so hard you'll cough up your intestines."

"What is with your attitude this morning?" France asks. "I know you usually act rather pissed off but not to this extent..."  
"I didn't sleep. Not a wink... Posh-Bastard's brothers somehow destroyed all the furniture and Veneziano was not cutting it for a make-shift bed." Romano explains, slapping himself to keep awake. "NOW WHERE IS THE FUCKING COFFEE?"

"I'll make you some... So just calm down, alright?" England says as he sits up then gets out of bed. France seems to have pulled his Pyjama pants down while they slept. England sighs and simply pulls them back up before slipping into his slippers nearby on the floor and walks downstairs into the open hallway that immediately connects to the kitchen.

It takes around 3 seconds for England to pay attention to his surroundings and when he pays attention, he finds his kitchen trashed.  
Half of the table has been smashed and Scotland lies in the wreckage. And then food items such as flour, sugar and broken glass have been tossed about the kitchen benches and the floor. Romano most likely threw a sleep-deprived fit when he couldn't find the coffee beans.  
England stands there, in shock. "What in the bloody hell..?" Is all he can get out.

Hesitating, he steps into the living room... Romano was right, the furniture is completely destroyed. Cabinets have been smashed open with bits of wood and glass strewn about the floor. Italy still looks knocked out and is somehow still on the couch which is now half destroyed thanks to some big scratch marks and it looks soaked with what is properly alcohol. The other couch and matching chairs are not much better, worse in fact. All the soft contents have been ripped right out and Wales seems curled up asleep in the stuffing. Looking up at the ceiling, the fan is half destroyed and NI somehow got himself to rest on it without the rest of it breaking.  
"FRANCE! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" England calls out, sounding like a call for help.

France makes his way down, while rubbing his eyes. "Yes?" He asks, then looking at the mess. He screams with sheer terror, making the house itself rumble, and causes un-broken glass to shatter, this also wakes everyone else up.

"Bu... Buongiorno..." Italy yawns, then rolling off the couch.  
"Mooooorning..." Wales greets as he uncurls himself.  
"Huh? Where am I?" NI questions, before falling to the floor.

Scotland then comes up from behind England and slaps him on his shoulder. "Can't believe you didn't see this coming little bro!" He laughs, followed by a yawn. "I'll be honest, we didn't intend to destroy your house to this extent, we basically wanted to have a party and mess up the place... Because it would have been funny to see your reaction to the mess."  
"You... YOU BASTARD!" England is quick to turn around and give Scotland a good punch to the groin. Scotland falls back and starts whining in pain while clutching his crotch.

"Punching everyone's dicks isn't going to solve anything." Wales says with a sigh. "Wait... We could go to Ikea and buy furniture to replace the furniture we trashed!" He suggests.  
"Splendid idea!" England says. "Get yourselves ready to head out, we're all going to Ikea!"  
"Wait, Ikea is a thing in this time?" France questions, cracking the 4th wall.  
"It's the same reason we have phones - It's for the plot so don't question it." England responds.  
"Actually, has Sweden even been founded as of now?" Questions Scotland.  
"Shut up before the story collapses on itself you wanker." England scolds.

* * *

"So, everyone is ready to go yes? Ikea is only a 30 minute stroll so it shouldn't take us long to get there!" England says.  
"Yep! Romano has had his coffee and we all threw out the bad furniture!" Italy says as he points to the pile of ruined furniture.  
"Perfect, let's go!"

England walks ahead of everyone, leading the pack, France right behind him.  
Italy is carrying Romano on his back, incase Romano falls asleep despite the coffee.  
Scotland is at the back of the pack, making sure Wales and NI don't fall behind.

After a while of walking, they arrive at Ikea. Romano has fallen asleep and Wales chose to piggy back on Scotland on the way.  
At the entrance stands Sweden. He looks like he could kill you if you make direct eye contact despite being a young-ish child, physically about 12 at this point in time.  
"Welcome to my home. Don't get lost, or you'll live here with me... Forever." He says, standing stiff. He seems bad at this conversation thing.  
Everyone except Italy seems terrified, but they walk right in anyway.

"Okay, here's the plan. Assign yourselves an item, look for it, then come back with it and we will meet right here with our items." England orders. "We need a new ceiling fan, bookshelves and cabinets, a kitchen table, chairs to go with said table, couches and chairs, and I guess we could use some lamps and rugs... I'm going after couches." He quickly explains before walking off.  
"I guess I'll find the table and chairs then." France decides, then walking off in another direction.  
"I'll look for the bookshelves and cabinets!" Italy says, then running off with Romano still asleep on his back.  
"Since I was asleep on it, I'll look for a new fan." NI chooses, also walking off.  
"I wanna go look for some fluffy rugs!" Wales exclaims, then running off.

"... Goddamit, I'm stuck with looking for lamps aren't I?" Scotland sighs. He walks off but trips over a loose tile. "Fuckin..." He growls and pushes himself up. "I hope the rest of these floors aren't terrible..."  
Suddenly, Sweden appears next to him as if he can teleport and looks up at Scotland. "I assure you that none of the other floors have loose tiles, and this was likely just your bad luck. If you insult my house any further and especially are not satisfied with the furniture on sale, I will have to throw you out."

Scotland backs up in fear then runs for it.  
"... I forgot to tell him the toilets aren't that way... That's what he's in a rush for, right?"

* * *

"Hm... I don't really care about how fancy it looks... Unless it's comfortable in the process. And then it should match the wallpaper and carpet but it should match everything else... Ugh, I should have properly thought this over." England groans, looking at the sofas on display.

Once again and just as suddenly, Sweden appears next to England from thin air. "I can help."  
"OH BUGGER!" England shouts after being heavily startled and he falls to the floor, lying stiff.  
Sweden simply picks him up, which is impressive considering his size.  
"Ah... Th-Thanks." England says, looking down at Sweden.  
"Will you accept my help?" Sweden asks once more.  
"Huh? Sure! Uh... How are you going to help me out anyway?" England asks back.

Sweden turn to look at the couches on display. "Pick a couch set... I will find the others and get them to pick matching furniture for you." He says.  
"That's rather kind of you, thank you!" England says, then turning to look at the couches as well. He quickly runs over to a couch that can seat about 4 people - 5 if you squish together - in combination with two single seats. It looks rather plain but soft and easy to clean if it gets messy. England takes a seat on it to test it out. "This feels... Rather nice."  
"Good choice. If you plan on having kids it's perfect, especially since liquid spills and crumbs are easy to clean, and it makes a good bed just incase." Sweden comments. "So... You chose this one?"  
"I suppose... I could spice it up with some pillows too." England replies.

"Got it. I'll go seek out the others in your group." Sweden replies, walking off and then vanishing from sight.  
"... What a strange country." England says to himself, then deciding to relax on the couch for a bit.

* * *

"Oh non non non... I should have asked England if he wanted a specific type of style..." France worries out-loud, looking around at the table sets.  
"I can help with that."

France screams like a girl then hides under one of the tables.

"... Sorry." Sweden apologises, then walking up to France. "The one looking for the couches has found a couch, and has sent me to match the rest of the furniture with the couch."  
"Oh, England found a couch already?" France gets out from under the table, then looks around. "So uh... What table would match the couch? Not that it honestly matters since it's going in the kitchen... But now that I think about it a coffee table isn't a bad idea..."  
"Got it." Sweden accepts the suggestion. "You... You are France?" Sweden quickly asks out of nowhere.  
"Yes. I am France... Oh, we didn't introduce ourselves to you, did we? Sorry about that, we were just a little intimidated because... Uh..." France stops himself from saying anything just incase he annoys or pisses off Sweden.  
"That's alright... Now, I think this white marble table will be good. Easy to clean and long lasting... The chairs that go along with it are strong wooden white ones... Will this do?"  
"I have a funny feeling you don't normally sell these." France comments, looking closely at the table.  
"No we don't. If I'm being honest most tables here are generally cheap and easy to put together but this was brought in so you could have a decent table... Also if you-"  
France covers Sweden's mouth. "I think the 4th was has been damaged enough today..." He nervously chuckles. "So... Coffee Table?"

Sweden points across the room. "That white one made from white metal bars and topped off with glass... It can easily break sure but I think you can easily replace the glass." He looks up at France and waits for a response.  
"I'll take them all!" France says, wanting Sweden to stop looking at him since he's internally terrified by Sweden's facial expression.

"... Ok. I'll continue to seek out the other now. Your choices will be shipped to your house, because that's how it must work for the sake of the story..." Sweden responds before vanishing from France's sight.  
France sighs. "I don't think the 4th wall will survive this chapter... I need to stop damaging it too... And why are we talking about it starting this chapter anyway?"

* * *

"Uh, what did the other fan look like?" NI questions, looking up at all the ceiling fans. "I know it was strong and rather fancy but-"

"I am here to help you with that."

"BLOODY BISCUITS!" NI jumps back and falls onto the floor.  
"Is that a reflex you big eyebrowed countries have?" Sweden questions, helping him up.  
"Ha ha, very funny... Anyway don't confuse we with the others, I'm Northern Ireland, if you find the shorter one that's Wales." NI states, dusting himself off.

"Now, fans..." Sweden looks up and points. "That's the one you want. It's very easy to install and surprisingly doesn't break easily, and it only doesn't do that because I think you would summon angry mobs to beat me up if they broke within days and I don't think anyone wants that..."  
NI glares at him, very confused. "Uh, okay then. Looks basic though. You sure England wants that?"  
Sweden nods. "It'll match the couches he chose out."

Sweden then quickly looks around.  
"My work here is done."  
He slowly walks off and vanishes from sight once more.  
"I have decided: he is creepy." NI comments, slightly shivering.

* * *

"Romano! You're awake!"  
"Put me down you bastard."  
"Okay!"

Italy lets go of Romano and Romano lands on the ground.  
"Ow..." Romano groans, then getting up himself. "What was that for?"  
"You wanted me to put you down, so I did!" Italy replies, then looking around. "Oh! It's the little country that greeted us at the entrance Romano! Hello!" Italy bends down to Sweden's height. "Are you here to help us look for good furniture?"  
"VENEZIANO, DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Romano pulls Italy back. "He might cut you! Or worse!"  
"Aw come on Romano, he seems like a sweet boy!" Italy insists.

"I get that a lot, Mr. Romano..." Sweden responds to the comment, then pushing his glasses back up. "What are you looking for specifically? Is there a specific height or width?"  
"Uh..." Both Italy and Romano look unsure.

"... I see how it is. Let me do this." Sweden closes his eyes and flops his arms down, then they quickly point up at a bookshelf and a cabinet. "You want those."

"Really? Grazie!" Italy says.  
"I can tell you were about to say my name but since you don't know it you didn't say it... My name is Sweden."  
"Oh, Grazie Sweden!" Italy thanks again. "Yeah, thanks I guess..." Romano adds.

* * *

Wales finds himself rolling in a bunch of rugs. "So soft... I could sleep here."  
"Oh, are you Wales?" Sweden asks as he walks up to Wales.

"AH!" Wales stands up. "I promise I wasn't rolling in the rugs!"

Sweden doesn't respond to the comment. "You're looking for a rug?"  
"Yes!" Wales answers. "Yes I am!"  
"Well... It'll have to match the couch in some way, and it must be easy to clean and thus easily portable so it needs to be light..."

"Uh..." Wales can't muster up an actual comment, then just picks up an oval-shaped rug that's white, somewhat fluffy and as big as him when held upright.  
"Good choice. Although stains must be quickly washed out." Sweden reviews.  
"I don't care, England is the one that'll be stuck with it." Wales responds, being honest.

"... You made that sound as if you aren't fond of England." Sweden comments.  
"We aren't too close in all honesty, but we still see him as our adorable little brother... Why did he have to get bigger?" Wales sighs, clutching onto the rug.  
"It likely has to do something with power and development of the country. I am new so I am still small... We age strangely, don't we?" Sweden puts forward, Wales looks at him with a blank stare, not sure how to reply. But one blink and Sweden is gone from his sight... Which makes Wales scream and run in an attempt to hide.

* * *

"There's this skinny tall lamp... Then there's this one that should be placed on a bedside table... Blasted little brother, forgot to detail what he wanted." Scotland groans, holding one of each lamp in his hands.

"Ah, you need help with lamps?"

Scotland freezes up and turns his head around. He looks away upon seeing Sweden. He doesn't say a word, not wanting to get thrown out a window.

"Can you answer?" Sweden starts pestering.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT TYPE OF LAMPS HE WANTS, KEEP YOUR LAMPS AND DON'T HURT ME PLEASE!" Scotland drops the lamps and runs away.

"..." Sweden looks at the now broken lamps, then bends down to start cleaning the mess up.

* * *

"So chaps, did we all find something?" England asks the group, as they have now all regrouped.

"Mhm."  
"Yep."  
"Si!"  
"Yes!"  
"Duh."  
"..."

Everyone looks at Scotland.

"Scotland?" England pesters, poking him.  
"Look, I didn't know what type of fucking lamps you wanted, alright?" Scotland replies, looking like his soul has been scared out of him.

England sighs. "That's alright brother... Let's just go to purchase our items and head back home. You're all helping us set up the furniture."

Everyone groans, but they all begin walking toward the exit.

* * *

"That's the last one!" Scotland shouts from the living room, then falling onto the couch. "Wow, this is comfy."  
"Veeeee..." Italy joins Scotland and decides to take a nap on the couch, followed by Romano falling asleep on him.

"Thank goodness, I didn't want this to drag over into tomorrow." England comments. He jumps in his skin as France hugs him from behind and scoop him up. "Put me down Frenchie." England groans.  
"Hmmmmmmm... Non." France jokes, then kissing England on the nose.  
"France... Our brothers are still here." England reminds France, face turning red.  
"They'll be conked out in mere minutes my love... Now let's go upstairs and make love." France chuckles, running upstairs with England still in his arms.


	6. Kids?

"Can you believe it France? It's our 50th anniversary already..." England says with a dreamy sigh as he looks at France, tea in hand.  
France puts down his newspaper and nods. "Mhm." He gives a soft smile before kissing England on the cheek. "Do you want a romantic night out perhaps?"

England blushes. "It's been a while since you've suggested something like that... How long has it been... 10 years?"  
"Well, this one is going to be a night out you'll remember! Only the best restaurant with the-" England pushes his fingers to France's lips, silencing him. "How about a relaxing night out, under the stars perhaps?" England suggests.  
France gulps down his old words and talks up new ones. "Ah, whatever you wish Mon Chéri."

* * *

It's now evening and the sky has gone dark with almost no clouds. The couple is dressed in plain clothing, such as a black shirt for France with the arms rolled and a plain green top for England, and both men wear jeans... Yes, they are even allowed to wear clothes from the future in this because I say it looks cuter, and would any of you even give a shit?. France has his hair tied up in a pony tail for this outing.

On the top of a hill with a green with a healthy tree with thick green leaves is where France and England decide to lay down their Picnic blanket. It's a plain square pattern, with the squares being the colours of red, white and blue. England sits down and places the picnic basket on the mat.

"The stars are starting to come out... They're so beautiful." England smile.  
France sits down next to England, staring up with him. "You know what's more beautiful?"  
England blushes. "What?"  
France smiles and kisses England on the cheek. "You."  
"Y-you did the meme wrong you idiot!" England says, letting out his Tsundere side.  
France laughs a little. "Memes aren't a thing yet silly."

After the two eat their dinner, they start pointing out constellations... But some small clouds start getting in the way.

"Hey, isn't that- Ugh, another cloud..." England sighs. His head rests on France's lap, while France is sitting and leaving against the tree. He plays with England's hair.  
"Oh, what bother... The stars are blocked out for a few seconds." France says, not sounding bothered at all.  
England watches the cloud slowly float through the sky.

"Hey France... What does the shape of that cloud look like to you?" England asks.  
France looks up at the cloud, and he tilts his head around while looking at it. "Hm... It looks like a star with a circle attached."  
England grab's France's hand and uses it to point at the cloud. "There's a head... Arms... Legs... And the body."  
"So... You see a baby?" France asks, rather confused.  
England nods, then looking up at France. "I know I haven't said anything about this yet but... I'd like to have kids."

France freezes, going pale. He looks down at England. "Ahonhon... Uh, we don't need to have kids just yet now do we? And look at the countries that actually had kids! There aren't many, now are there? And how hard would it be to adopt a country if we went that route? Actually, is that the only route we can go if we want kids?"  
England frowns. "Sorry for bringing it up..." He shrugs and goes silent.

* * *

France carries the now sleeping England inside their house and turns on the light. He spots a note on the kitchen table, but runs up the stairs and tucks England into bed before going back down to read it. He picks the note up.  
 _'Hey bro! We broke in earlier and found that you weren't home and didn't bother looking for you, mainly because we'd rather not barge in on hardcore sex or whatever you and the Frenchie do when you're not at home... So we settled to stealing your cookies. Also Wales wants to know if you've told him that you want kids... For the sake of probably everyone I suggest you don't have any. - Scotland_  
 _PS: We're not giving you anything in return for those cookies.'_

France sighs.  
"It's not that I don't want kids... It's just that I fear I won't make a good father. If I'm being honest, I've been an awful big brother... How could I do any better as a father?" France stares at the ceiling, looking lost. Then he looks up the stairs, seeing light being emitted from the bedroom. "Don't worry Mon Chéri, I'll be right with you."


	7. 100-years worth of bickering

"France... How long have you gone without talking to England again?"  
"... Uhm... T... Ten years..."  
"And over some little argument over having kids?! Man, that's weak!"  
"S-SHUT IT SPAIN! AND I CAN HEAR YOU LAUGHING IN THE BACKGROUND PRUSSIA!"  
"Calm down bro! You wanna try looking after Italy and Romano again for practise? You know they're great kids, even though annoying and rather useless if you think about it... And not really kids anymore."  
"... Ahhh... No thanks."

France turns to look at England. He's sitting at a table, and angrily reading the newspaper while drinking some tea.

"Besides, I don't think he wants to bring up kids ever again... At this point in time anyway."  
"Well, you could at least seek marriage counselling."  
"WHAT? We don't need it! And besides, who could we even see? Romance is basically my middle name! If I can't keep a marriage stable, then no one can! I'll talk to you two later!"  
"Okay, see ya!"

France slams the phone down. He wipes his face with his hand before tears can form, then he looks over at England before approaching him.  
"England..."  
England crunches up the newspaper before it turns to ash by burning up in England's grasp. "What do you want you frog?" He asks, before giving a sharp, menacing glare.

France jumps back and slams into the wall. "A... Ah... Where'd you learn to do that?" He nervously asks.  
"What? Oh... This?" England crunches his fist, and it emits fire. He gives a smirk. "Did you forget that I was given the gift to use Black Magic?" England laughs, holding his fist up to France.  
"O-of course not! I was just shocked that it became so... Upgraded." France replies, managing to send a glare back. "You gonna spank me with that hand?"  
"But of course." England says back.

* * *

 **First decade - Not-so mild annoyance**

"So darling, you want me to make you some tea?" England asks, hiding a smirk.  
"Hm, why not?" France replies, taking a seat on the couch.

"Right on it!" England rushes to the kitchen.

England chuckles. He cracks his knuckles and begins to make tea.  
 _'France won't even know what hit him... This tea will knock him right out!'_

After a few minutes, England seems finished and sets out a tray with two teacups and a teapot. "I'm done!" England announces, then walking over to France and placing the tray down on the coffee table.  
France smiles and picks up his cup and takes a sniff. "Mmmm... Smells like roses." Then he takes a sip.  
England sits down next to him and picks up his own cup, taking a sip as well.

England's facial expression turns shocked and his skin goes pale.  
"Well fuck, I cursed the wrong tea cup..." He says before falling forward. He's out cold.  
"E-England?!" France attempts shaking him to get him to wake up. It doesn't work.

* * *

 **Second decade - Obvious aggression**

"Good Morning England!" France says from the bottom end of the bed while England is asleep at the top. England replies with loud snoring.  
France glares, then kicking England in the nuts.  
The response is high-pitched screaming.

Suddenly, the phone rings.  
"I'll get it!" France jumps out of bed and picks up the phone.  
"Ello?"  
"COULD YOU FIND A BETTER WAY TO WAKE THAT POSH BASTARD UP? THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK I'VE HEARD HIM SCREAM FROM DOWN HERE! THIRD!"  
"... Maybe you should start wearing earmuffs Romano?" France suggests with a nervous chuckle.  
"Or maybe you could just FUCKING TAKE MY ADVICE ABOUT ROMANCE!"  
"I DON'T NEED IT! I'M BETTER AT BEING ROMANTIC THAN YOU!"  
"NO I AM YOU WINE BASTARD!"

England pushes himself up off the bed and hears the bickering downstairs. "... Ugh, I need more sleep. And France arguing over the phone isn't helping." England pulls himself up and slips into his slippers, not bothering to change out of his PJs. He then walks downstairs into the kitchen where France is on the Phone.

"So, what you're saying is that I need to bring out the costumes because seeing England in a sexy nurse costume will somehow save our marriage? Well, this marriage doesn't need saving!"  
"Yes it does."  
"I LOVE ENGLAND WITH ALL MY HEART! IF I DIDN'T I WOULDN'T HAVE MARRIED HIM!"  
"What's going on right now tells us all otherwise... Look, you are this close to-"  
"Don't even speak of that word..."

England sighs and grabs a nearby rag he uses to dry off the dishes. He wraps it around France's neck.

"AHK! ROMA... HEL... AHHHKKK!" France drops the phone as England chokes him.

"Hello? Wine Bastard? ... Big Brother?"

England eventually stops choking France, once France has been knocked out due to lack of air. England sighs with relief. "Now I can sleep in some..." He puts the rag back on the kitchen bench and goes back to bed.

"... Veneziano, I think France just died."

* * *

 **Third decade - Playing with emotions**

"So um... T-there is a VERY GOOD reason why we called you all over here." Italy starts.  
"Does it have something to do with my brother beating the shit out of yours then making out for a second before they start fighting again?" NI asks.  
"What do you think?" Romano scoffs.  
"Um... Does anyone know how long this has been going on, exactly?" Wales asks.  
"If you don't count that 10-year silence, then I think It's been going on for 28 years..." Spain answers.  
"Can't they just fuck and make up or something?" Scotland suggests.  
"Unfortunately, it's not that simple..." Italy sighs.

The group - sitting on the porch of the back yard - look at France and England fighting on the lawn. One second the pair are strangling each other, the next, one of them is sexually biting the other's neck.

"Oh yeah, that's it... Get it o- NO NO, STOP THAT!"  
"Prussia?!" The group comment, surprised as they see Prussia's head stick out from a nearby bush.  
"What? I'm trying to get them to make up. AW COULD YA STOP KICKING HIM IN THE GUT?!"

Spain sighs and gets off his chair. "I'll go deal with him."  
The remaining five stare at each other. "Well... Do you think we should go on a trip to Ikea again? I hear they have new stock?" Wales suggests.  
"And leave tomato bastard here? Good idea." Romano stands up and grabs Italy's arm. "Let's go guys."  
"Oh uh... Alright then..." NI sits up, as do his brothers. The group then walks off.

"Gotcha!" Spain says, having successfully pinned down Prussia.  
Prussia gives Spain a cheeky glare. "What a naughty boy you are, pinning defenceless little me down like this..."  
"I-I'm not naughty! I was trying to stop you from creepily watch France from the bushes!" Spain says.  
"Oh yeah, I forgot you're like that." Prussia says before Spain gets off of him, allowing him to stand up. "So, any ideas on how to make Francy stop all this?"  
"Nope! That's why Italy and Romano called us all-" Spain points at the now empty table. "Oh... Looks like they gave up too... Wanna go out for coffee?"  
"Eh, sure. I have nothing else to do." Prussia replies. The duo then leave the premises.

"YES! HIT ME HARDER!"  
"ALRIGHT YA FROG, HOW'S THIS?!"  
"OH GOD, MY BALLS!"

* * *

 **Fourth decade - Daily routine**

"Morning dear, care to serve me another plate of trying-to-choke-me-to-death?" France asks, chuckling as he sits down.  
"Right away sweetheart. I have been cooking it since before you got up after all!" He flips his frying pan up, a circular piece of black food that was likely an egg flies through the air and lands on France's head.

France picks it out of his hair and reluctantly looks at it.  
"Go on, eat it... _**And tell me it's good.**_ " England threatens.

France hesitates, and bites down on the terribly cooked egg. He whines after biting it. "It's rock solid..."  
"I'LL FORCE IT DOWN THEN!" England rushes at France and attempts to push the egg down France's throat and he eventually succeeds.

"It's... goooood..." France lies, then coughing out a black cloud of smoke.  
England smiles. "Thanks! Let's go for a walk now!" He then pulls France up and walks out the door. "We're going to show everyone how happy we are, like always!"  
"Y-yes... Like always..." France replies, sounding somewhat dead inside.

The pair take a nice walk, England has a smile on his face, although it seems forced.  
"Good Morning you two!" England greets as he sees Italy and Romano outside in their front yard, caring to their garden.  
"Ah, Buongiorno!" Italy greets them back.  
"... Ciao." Romano reluctantly replies.  
"Hm... Lovely garden you have... Lots of tomatoes as well." France comments.  
"Yep! We need a lot of them to make sauce of course!" Italy says.  
"And besides, tomatoes are the best fruit..." Romano says.  
"They're a VEGETABLE!" Italy says.  
"Oh, you wanna start this again? Okay, let's-a go fratello." Romano replies with a glare.  
"I'm not gonna hold back this time! I'm gonna convince you for sure!" Italy responds, glaring back.

"... Well, let's leave them to fight over that, shall we?" France chuckles.  
"Yes. Let's." England says, tightening his grip on France. France flinches and sighs.  
"I hope this day flies by..." France comments.  
"You say that everyday..." England replies.

* * *

 **Fifth decade - Getting real sick of this**

France stares at the ceiling as he lays on the couch, he remains silent. He sits up after hearing England let out a yell from the kitchen. "What now?" He turns his head to look, suddenly springing up and rushing over to help him. "You cut yourself you debile!" France gently hold's England's left hand. He's cut over three of his fingers.  
England pulls his hand away. "Don't touch me!" He recoils, obviously showing some tears due to the pain.  
"Stay here... I'll get some bandages!" France rushes off to the bathroom.

"... Stupid frog... And stupid me. Why are we trying to keep it together? This is going to end sooner or later... I know it." England sighs. "Ahhh... Getting... Lightheaded." England stumbles to the sink and turns the tap on to run his hand under it.

France runs back in with a bandage in his hand "Hold out your hand."  
England shrugs, turning off the tap and holding out hand.  
France starts wrapping a bandage around his fingers. Once done, he pins it off and England snatches his hand away, looking away from France.

France remains in silence for a few seconds before speaking. "You're in full Tsundere mode aren't you?"  
"Wha-" England turns around. "N-no! I don't need to give your thanks! I would have been fine, and I could have done it myself you dolt!"  
France sighs, grabbing England's butt. "I miss the days that were like this... Why can't we go back to those days?"

England slaps France's hand away and takes a step back.

Silence.  
The two stare each other down.

"Because you're not trying hard enough." England lies, before leaving the room and walking outside. He folds his arm and lets some tears flow out.  
"There's no hope now... Is there?" He quietly asks himself.

* * *

 **Sixth decade - Not playing nice**

England silently cleans the dishes.  
France watches from the kitchen table. "You missed a spot."

England looks back at France. The plate where England supposedly missed a spot cleaning starts floating. It then flings itself at France.  
France manages to grab the plate before it can smack him in the face.

"Heh... So you wanna play with magic? My dear, you should know what you bargained for... Do you even dare to fight me?" England lifts up another plate, and it catches fire.  
"... Why are you trying to parody a song that doesn't even exist yet?" France asks.  
"SHUT UP BEFORE I THROW THIS!" England threatens.

"... You're not actually going to throw it, are you? Don't want to break a good set of plates..." France teases.  
England slowly puts the plate down, as does France in response... Then England throws a fireball at France.

"AYIE!" France ducks to dodge. "Do you want to burn the house down?!"  
"Ah, don't worry... I got it." England throws an icicle at the fire, it quickly extinguishes.

France gets up and manages to pin England against the wall, then grabbing his wrists. "Don't you give me that look."  
"What look?" England teases, giving France a 'ready to fight' glare.  
France simply glares back.  
The two attempt trying to give each other the nastiest glare.

Then there's a knock at the door before it's opened.  
"Ciao! Big brother France forgot something yesterday and I-" Italy is cut off as England fires an icicle at him, which slams the door shut in the process. "WAH I'M SORRY I WON'T KNOCK AGAIN I'LL RING THE DOORBELL FROM NOW ON AND I'LL COME BACK LATER PLEASE DON'T HURT MEEEE!"

France sighs and throws England to the floor. "That's no a nice to treat my little brother... How do you like it?" France then kicks England in his side. England recoils by firing a fireball at France, and his shirt catches fire.  
"AIEEEEEEEE!" France screams, then he runs to the bathroom.  
"... That should silence him for a while..." England then gets up and continues with the cleaning of the dishes.

* * *

 **Seventh decade - Last chance**

"France... What is this?" England asks, walking into the kitchen and seeing the table set up along with some fancy looking dinner.  
"Oh... I just wanted to eat like this again." France says, already sat down at the table.  
England takes his seat and grabs the cutlery so he can start eating.

There's silence for the first half of the dinner.

"... What's the real reason you wanted to do this?" England asks.  
France remains silent for a bit more. "It's just... I'm trying to do everything to keep you happy. You've just seemed so unhappy and angry with me lately."  
"And you think a simple dinner is going to solve that?" England replies, sounding rather harsh.  
"England, please..." France begs. "Just tell me, honestly... Do you still love me?"

Silence from England. He finishes his food and picks up his plate and cutlery and gets up to go put them in the sink. "I'll wash the dishes again tonight..." He says as he turns on the tap.  
France bows his head down in silence, upset by England's response. He then attempts to finish off his food.

* * *

 **Eighth decade - A big mistake**

England mops the floor of the kitchen while singing to the tune of his Hetalian Jet because these poor bastards can't sing outside their given songs and their anthem.

"Bonj-AH!" France slips on the wet floor and lands on his back. "E-England... I'd like some help here..."  
"Even though I'm stabbed by a shooting star, Hello… It's England… Let's do this with style! British-Jet! I've also baked some scones. Let's go, Let's go..." England continues to sing, completely ignoring France.

France grabs onto the chair and pulls himself up and takes a seat on it. He lets out a groan. "England, can you stop that singing for a moment and just listen to me for once this decade?!"

England doesn't look at France, but stops singing... But quickly switches to something else. "Flare up and burn it down, from corner to corner with that hellfire..." His facial expression also turns rather dark.

France groans once more and rests his head on the table. "Mon Chéri... Should I even call you that anymore? Why must you do this to my heart? You're breaking it... I don't know how to go about treating you anymore... Why can't you just stop being tsundere for a moment and honestly talk to me?!"

England stops his creepy chanting, and stops mopping and turns to look at France. "I... I just want kids."  
"England, we already talked about this. We will NOT have any children." France says, sternly.  
"But why? You've looked after your brothers so you can obviously-" England is cut off.  
"I don't want to do that again!" France snaps back. "We will not talk about this again... Alright?"

England reluctantly nods, now looking like he's given up.

* * *

 **Ninth decade - Attempting to try**

England paces up and down the living room. "Ahhh... What can I do? My cooking is terrible, I've already cleaned everything, the washing is done... Ah! Have I cut the lawn? No! I'll do that before France gets home then!" England runs outside.

Once France returns home with some groceries, he looks about the house confused. "England? Why aren't you accidentally killing yourself in the kitchen like usual?" He asks in a loud voice.

He can hear the back door open and shut and England is dressed in some gardening attire - bandana around head, rolled up sleeves and pants, rain-boots and what looks like a rubber apron, as well as gardening gloves. "Darling, you're back!" England greets France with a smile. "I fixed up the back garden and the lawn!"  
"... You need a shower." France says. "You've become filthy."  
"R-right away sweetheart!" England sprints towards the bathroom.

France looks on in confusion. "He's been acting rather strange lately..." He then sighs and walks off to put the groceries away.

Once England has finished his shower, he walks out in some clean clothes, having put the gardening attire in the laundry. "I'm all clean now Francey pants!"  
"Please don't call me that." France groans slightly as he chops up carrots.  
"Ah, what are you making for us this fine night?" England asks.  
"... Just some plain vegetable soup... I decided I don't have to spoil you with my great cuisine because your tastebuds are beyond dead and can't appreciate it." France responds.

England's reaction is stiff silence. "You've been dropping so many truth bombs on me recently. Aha... But no matter what you make I'll eat it right up!" England attempts to remain positive. England then sits himself down at the table and waits for dinner.

* * *

 **Tenth decade - It's all going down**

France lays in bed, staring at the ceiling. England keeps poking him.  
"Could you please stop?" France asks.  
"Well, you're not going to sleep anytime soon anyway... And I'm only in my underwear..." England teases. _'France can't resist a chance to fuck... Can he?'  
_ France gives England a stern look. "Then put your PJs on. Like I have."

"Ugh, I'm kinda starting to miss the times when you slept naked..." England sighs, attempting to cuddle up to France.  
France gently pushes England away, without saying anything, and rolls over so he is looking at the wall and bedside table. He also switches off his lamp.

"Alright... I'll put my Pyjamas on..." England gives in. He sits up then gets off the bed, getting his PJs from the closet. While dressing, he turns to France. "What's gotten into you tonight Francey?"  
"... Don't call me that." France simply replies.  
England simply responds with a sigh, then walks back into bed once he's dressed.

"Goodnight..." England quietly says before curling up in bed.

* * *

 **Eleventh decade - Almost over**

"You haven't had sex for HOW long?"  
"Around 107 years now?"  
"Aren't you meant to be a sex machine or something though? How are you even functioning?"  
"Ah, nice to see you still get along with your friends and family France... Either of you chaps down for tea?"

The trio stares at England for a good 5 seconds.  
"Sure, I'd like some!" Spain says, happily taking a cup and letting England pour it for him.  
"Eh, why not?" Prussia takes a cup as well.  
"No thank you... I'm not thirsty." France insists.  
England places the teapot down on the table. "Well, if you boys need anything from me, just call! I'll be tending to the garden over there!" England quickly runs inside first, instead of toward the garden.

"England seems to have become the perfect housewife... What did you do to him France?" Spain asks, wanting to know his secrets.  
"I don't know myself exactly... One day he just changed his attitude. But it feels so forced of him, I have no idea if he's screaming on the inside or not." France answers.  
"If this is all an act, he'll break down eventually." Prussia chuckles.  
"Oh! Do you think you'll ever get England to wear that Nurse outfit I got him for his birthday that one year?" Spain asks, chuckling.  
"I'm afraid chances are quite slim..." France replies.

England rushes outside again, now in his gardening attire.

"He looks kinda cute in that... Can I keep him instead?" Prussia asks.  
"I... Uh... No." France says.  
"He seems to have done a nice job on the garden though... Are those tomatoes ripe yet?" Spain asks a different question.  
"... Do you seriously eat green tomatoes?" France asks back, sounding confused.

England bends down in an attempt to pull up something.  
"He's got a nice ass." Prussia compliments.  
"Well, that was just a bonus." France says, trying to hide a blush.

England manages to pull a weed out, then sighs. " _How much longer will our life be like this?_ "


	8. Nothing can save it now

_"This is my last chance... If this doesn't work, nothing will..."_

"So nice of you to help out Seborga!" France says, petting Seborga's head.  
"Well, anything to be recognised by my brothers! Romano and Veneziano keep forgetting I live with them for one..." Seborga laughs. He flinches once France accidentally touches his curl and he jumps back.  
"Ah, sorry." France chuckles a little. "Can't believe we have so many clothes that don't fit us anymore... Now, you have the clothes that will go into storage, alright? I'll go ask England what he wants thrown out... Last I saw he was in the bedroom. Just check up there once you put those in storage." France instructs.  
"Got it!" Seborga picks up about three boxes and walks off.

"England! What do you-" France trips over some pants, belonging to England. He gets up, picks the pants up then tosses it to the side. "My gosh England, I thought we agreed that dirty clothes go straight in the laun-..." France enters the bedroom and is left speechless, as well as feeling rather hot.

England's hands are tied behind his back with a rope, and said rope is tied to the bed.  
England's current attire is that of a soft pink nurse outfit, complete with heels, pens in a chest pocket and one of those hats.  
"Ahhhh, I've been a naughty nurse, haven't I Francey?"

France's face turns redder by the second, and he is soon erect.

"Not helping out with sorting old clothes, leaving dirty clothes on the floor, and now getting tied to my own bed? Oh... I should be punished for this, shouldn't I?" England looks at France, with a seemingly innocent glare, yet it screams 'fuck me'.

France wipes away the dripping blood from his nose and unhooks his belt from his pants. "Yes, you do need to be punished. Will a spanking suffice?" France lets his pants drop to the floor and he takes off his shirt before taking off his underwear.  
"OH, FRANCEY!" England's nose practically shoots out a concentrated jet of blood upon seeing France completely naked.  
France walks towards then crawls on top of the bed. He gets in a similar pose to England, minus the hand behind his back. He pushes England down so England is looking at his dick. "You know what to do..."  
England hesitates for a moment, but happily shoves it in his mouth and starts giving France a blowjob.  
"Ahhh... I forgot how good you were at this." France compliments, then whipping England's ass with his belt.

"France, I put the clothes in the-" Seborga walks in on them and goes speechless. Luckily, the two didn't hear or notice him. "Alright then, I'm-a just lock the door for you... And I'll see you tomorrow perhaps... Ehe." Seborga quietly shuts the door and awkwardly walks down the stairs and out the house. "Big brother is finally getting laid in an entire century! Why am I not disturbed though? I'm-a like physically 14 right now. Ah well, time to go tell the family!"

...

"Your swallow game is on point, England." France happily chuckles as England gets back up. "Ah, there's a bit on your chin." France wipes England's chin with his thumb then shoves his thumb in England's mouth, and England happily licks the rest of the substance off of France's thumb. "Good boy." France says with a smile before working his hand up England's short skirt. "Let's get those panties off, shall we?" He then pulls England's panties down in one quick motion.

England goes red in the face and France shuffles up to him. Once France is close enough, England wraps his legs around him and sits on the Eiffel tower and begins bouncing up and down on it. He lets out a moan.  
"That's right..." France says with a smirk, he then grabs onto Big Ben and starts stroking it.  
"A-ahhhhh..." England's face tells it all to France: He's being more than simply satisfied with the pleasure, and looks ready to follow just about anything France asks of him.

France uses his free hand to gently hold England's chin, he then pushes his tongue deep into England's mouth and he plays with England's tongue using his own.  
England can't talk right now, let alone moan out of pleasure.

France eventually breaks away to give them some room to breathe.  
"F... France..." England says, looking into France's eyes.  
France looks back and it's as if England had been hypnotised.

France looks down very quickly, England's Big Ben looks one minute away from going 'bing bong'. And France himself feels ready to burst.  
"Just a little longer England..." France says, burying his tongue inside England's mouth once more.

After just a mere half a minute France pulls away once more.  
"Brace yourself." France warns.  
The two yell in pleasure at the same time, releasing their contents. England's goes all over their faces.

France licks around his lips. "Wow, this tastes the opposite of your food... Delicious." France chuckles. Then licking England's face clean before ejecting himself completely from him.  
England looks exhausted, the rope that tied him to the bed burns up without leaving any ash and he falls forward, now looking half asleep.  
France can't help but smile a little. He gets off the bed and grabs a nearby blanket and tosses it over England. He walks off to the bathroom to wash up before coming back.

* * *

"So, how long has England been acting like this?"  
"Two years now..."

France looks over at England. He's stuffing his face with a bunch of cereal and downing it with more more milk.

"What did you do to him?"  
"N-nothing! I swear I didn't hurt your brother or anything! The only thing memorable we've done in the past few years was fuck while England was wearing that nurse costume..."  
"Did ya spank him?"  
"...Yes, with my belt- wait you just wanted me to hit him didn't you because you three never get the chance to, do you?"  
"Precisely!"  
"Why do I even talk with you? Why does England even tolerate your existence? You're a worse big brother that me."  
"Aw come on, I'm not-"  
"Do you want me to list off things you've done to torment him Scotland? And just you alone?"

Scotland hangs up shortly after.  
"Just what I thought..." France puts the phone down and looks back at England, he steps back in shock upon seeing that all the milk has gone. "England... It's the third time this week. How much more milk will I have to buy?"  
England stands up and kicks his chair to the side then wiping his face dry with the back of his hand. He rushes at France and pins him to the wall.  
"Why can't you just... AHHGGHHH!" England starts crying and clings to France as he slides down to the floor.  
France sighs. "You're acting immature England. Please stop."  
"Everything huuuuuurts..." England complains.

France sighs and picks England up, then lays him on the couch. "Two entire years of this insufferable madness... Is this ever going to stop?"  
England just whines. "I'm hungry."  
"You just ate." France says, unamused and folding his arms.

France gives England a good look - up and down. Despite the absurd amount of food England is eating, he doesn't look like he's gained any weight, and he does look in some kind of pain. "Look, if you keep this up, I'll..." France doesn't finish his sentence, as if to not completely blackmail England. After all, France had secretly given up years ago. "Never mind... I'll just go buy more milk."

* * *

"Francey... You called?" England walks up to France, who's standing in the middle of the living room, his back is turned to England.  
"Yes." France then turns around to look at England. "Are you calmed down from earlier?"  
"Yes... Very much so." England says.

"Good. Now, I don't think you'll like hearing this but..." Frances pauses to take a deep breath in. "I want a divorce."  
England turns pale. "But France," England slams into France and grabs onto the collar of his shirt. "I STILL LOVE YOU! I DON'T WANT THIS!"  
France shrugs off the statement. "This past century has shown me a lot... You've been downright horrible to me, your feelings seem forced and after sex you go right back to being insufferable with no tolerance for me!" France lashes back out at him.  
"You dolt! I still care for you! We can still-"  
"I've heard enough England. A simple sorry or 'I love you' can't reverse the damage now." France pulls out their wedding documents he stuffed in his pocket. He cleanly rips them all in half in one go and they float to the floor.

"No... Please..." England begins crying, then he suddenly feels a sharp pain in his stomach. "AGH!" He lets go of France's clothing and holds his stomach, he stumbles back and falls to the floor, blacking out.

France flinches. "E-England?!" He rushes over to England and feels his forehead. England's heating up and looks in pain. "Oh god... I need to get him to the hospital tout de suite!" France picks England up and rushes out of the house, hoping England won't do something like die on the way there.

...

Crying of newborns can be heard.  
"Nnnngh..." England slowly opens his eyes and finds himself in a bed in the hospital, as well as in a plain white shirt and black shorts. To the right of him stands France, to the left stands Hungary. Hungary is holding what looks like two blankets. One striped with red, white and blue and the other is missing the blue colour; it's just red and white striped.

"Ah! He's awake! Just in time."  
"Are you alright England?"  
England looks at France. "What are you doing here wanker..? You don't love me anymore... Remember?" He groans.  
France sighs. "You collapsed and were overheating. I couldn't just leave you there, you could have died!"

Hungary doesn't say a word, but hands the tri-colour blanket to England. England looks down.  
In the blanket, rests a baby with short and shaggy blonde hair with a short ahoge that points up at the moment, as well as eyebrows that aren't too thick. It continues crying until England gently strokes his face gently with just one finger. Once the crying has stopped, it's big blue eyes open and stares happily at England.

France gets handed the other blanket.  
In this blanket is much of the same, except the baby's hair looks more akin to his own as well as a long and curly ahoge. France uses the same tactic to make the baby stop crying. It's eyes are a blue-violet colour.

"Healthy twin boys!" Hungary says.

England notices a tag on the blanket. "America... Is that his name?" He asks, looking up at Hungary.  
Hungary nods.  
France notices a similar tag. "It says Canada on here... Heh, he's inherited my silky smooth hair. He looks quite a bit like me."  
"W-well America looks like me, sort of!" England says.  
France walks up to England to have a look at America. "Ah, thank goodness. They didn't inherit those ugly eyebrows of yours." He chuckles.

England growls a little bit at this remark, before looking back at Hungary. "Uh... Are these our kids? And if so, how?"  
"Well, of course they're your kids. And sit back you two, because I'm going to explain how this happened and it wasn't Mpreg!"  
"Mpreg? That sounds painful..." England comments.  
"Yeah, where would it come out of?" France shudders.  
"Normally the ass, but don't worry! That didn't happen here!" Hungary reassures.

"It's simpler than it sounds actually... Basically what happens is if this thing called 'energy' is shared between two male countries during sex - which normally happens if one just lets go while still in the other - the one on the receiving end then carries energy for an unspecified amount of time while acting as if they were pregnant... Once it's time, the Energy then bursts forward and forms a country or two... Or more. But to black out during an energy burst... The countries must be more powerful than England combine!"

"Huh, that makes sense..." England comments.  
"But why is it done like that?" France further questions.  
"Us countries are generally immortal beings that aren't like normal humans and we can use things like magic so does this really seem so farfetched?" Hungary answers with another question.  
"I guess you're right..." France says, looking back at England. "This doesn't change anything. I'm still divorcing you."  
"B-but we have children now! The one thing I wanted in our lives..." England tries to defend himself.  
"I'm sorry... We will make it official tomorrow. I'm keeping Canada." France replies.  
England bows his head down, looking and feeling defeated...as well as heart broken.


	9. A bunch of men raise a kid

"WAHHHHH!"  
"Hush now America... You don't want to leave a bad impression on your uncles now do you?" England gently rocks America and kisses his forehead. America calms down.

NI opens the front door. "Well look who came crawling back..."  
"You know I have no choice, we destroyed the house remember?" England replies.  
"Oh, right..." NI says, letting England walk in.

"Where's the cutie?!" Scotland rushes towards England just so he can look at America. "He doesn't even have thick eyebrows! I thought that was a dominant trait!" He says. "And blue eyes too... Are you sure he's more English than French?"  
England looks up at Scotland. "Look I just have custody of h- WHEN DID YOUR HAIR TURN RED?"  
"Huh? Oh... It just started growing red. Ya like it?" Scotland chuckles.

England shrugs and makes his way down the hall and into the living room.

"Ah! He's so cute! Can I hold him?" Wales asks from the couch.  
England hesitates to answer. "N-not just yet. He needs to become comfortable with me first... I am his mother after all."  
"You're okay with calling yourself a feminine title?" Scotland asks.  
"Well, I am technically his mother..." England says, sounding a little embarrassed. He takes a seat on the couch and lies America in his lap. America kicks his legs and flails his arms.  
"Adorable!" Wales shuffles next to England. He holds out his hand so America can kick it. America does indeed kick it but- "OUCH!" He pulls his hand back. "That's a strong baby... Do you think it's a good idea to teach him magic?" Wales asks, coating his hand in ice to soothe it.

Scotland claps his hands and his hands catch fire. "Why not? I think his magic could be more powerful than ours combine!"  
England jumps in his skin and protectively hugs America.  
NI grabs Scotland's hands and douses them in water and extinguishes the fire. "How do we know the boy even possesses the ability to use magic? Besides he's a day old... And the country has to fuck up before we can think about burning him."  
"I don't like the way you're talking about your own nephew..." England says, sending harsh glares at his brothers.

 **Meanwhile...**

"This is your new home Canada." France opens his front door and walks in, turning on the lights in the hallway, several rooms beyond the doors and a living room at the end of the hallway. "Nice to know it's been kept clean... Forgot how much I missed this place at first. Especially the kitchen." He walks into his living room and he becomes shocked to see his brothers just chilling on his couch and playing cards. Prussia is also there, having fallen asleep on the floor.  
"What are you all doing here?" France's facial expression is a mix of annoyed and confused.

"France is home!" Spain notes, putting down his cards.  
"Ah! Little bambino!" Italy jumps up and rushes over to France's side, eager to get a look at Canada.  
Romano sits up. "Does it look like posh bastard?" He asks as be walks up to France.

Spain bends down and gently shakes Prussia.  
"Zzzzz... You'll never take my lunch money... Huh?" Prussia wipes his wet drool from the side of his lips using the palm of his hand. He looks around. "Heyyyy, Francey Pantsy is back!" He pushes himself off of the ground into a standing position. He walks over to France, accompanied by pain.  
"Aw, he's so cute!" Spain can't help but squeal.  
Prussia gently ruffles Canada's hair. "Looks like his papa. Can't wait till I can show him all the awesome games I came up with!"

Canada starts crying, obviously not used to having so much attention on him. He weakly flails his arms in a sort of fit.  
France rocks him in an attempt to calm him down. But he doesn't stop crying.  
"Let me try! I'm good with kids!" Spain offers.  
"Oh alright. Just be gentle!" France reluctantly hands Canada over to Spain.

Spain gently rocks Canada and hums a calming tune as he sits back down on the couch, placing Canada in his lap to get his hands free to gently tickle Canada under the chin. Canada begins to giggle and gurgle, trying to grab Spain's finger.  
France watches in awe, before looking directly at Spain. "Please teach me your secrets."

* * *

"WAHHHHH! WAHHHHH!"  
"ENGLAND! SHUT HIM UP!"  
"I CAN'T SLEEP!"  
"THIS NOISE WILL BE FOREVER IMPLANTED INTO MY BRAIN IF THIS CONTINUES!"  
"SHUT UP YOU THREE, YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE!"

England gets out of his bed and slaps himself completely awake and walks over to the other side of his bedroom to the crib. He picks up the crying America and holds him close, running his fingertips softly through the short head of hair America currently possesses. "Hush now, I'm here to protect you... You're safe in my arms..."  
America quiets down, letting out playful babbles and happily bouncing.  
England smiles and puts America back in the crib and turns his back to go back to bed. But America just starts crying again.

"OH FOR FUCK SAKE!"  
"DO YOU WANT TO TRY PUTTING HIM BACK TO SLEEP SCOTLAND? BE MY GUEST!"

Surprisingly, Scotland does in fact make his way to the bedroom. He storms over to America.  
His grumpy and sleep-deprived look seemingly vanishes and is replaced with a happy smile. "Don't you wanna have a lovely sleep?" He ruffles America's hair and snaps his fingers. He opens his palm again and shining, small golden sheep begin bouncing about in the air, America goes silent and watches in awe.  
Scotland turns back to England and rubs his own eyes. "That should last for a few hours... Now go back to sleep before NI loses his ability to sleep." Scotland shuffles himself out of the bedroom and closes the door.

England takes a few seconds to let the event sink in. He looks at America, dozing off as he watches the sheep bounce. He softly smiles and rolls back into bed.

 **Meanwhile...**

"WAHHHHHH! BIG BROTHERRRRR! IT'S STUCK! IT'S-A STUCK!"  
France and Spain suddenly wake up, and Canada begins crying. The older brothers currently sharing a bed for the night because everyone wanted to stay the night for their work to clean up France's place in a matter of hours. Spain looks at France in his surprisingly awake eyes. "I'll deal with them, you put Canada back to sleep, you can do this." He gently pats France on the shoulder two times before getting out of bed and running to the guest bedroom that's right across the thin hallway from France's own bedroom.  
France stares below the window, where the crib stands. Canada lays on the white-coated mattress, kicking his red blanket away in his fit as the moonlight shines down oh him. France bends over and retrieves Canada from the crib.

Canada continues to cry.  
Attempting to copy earlier instructions given by Spain, France sits on the bed with Canada and hums a similar tune to earlier, keeping it in tune with his own heartbeat. Canada seems pleased by the tune, halting his noise and yawning instead.  
"Heh, it's working..."

After a short wile, Canada starts to quietly snore, which France sees as his cue to put Canada back to bed. "Bonne nuit my darling... Hopefully for the last time tonight." France whispers, quickly glancing at the doorway as Spain makes a well-timed entrance back into the room. "It was their curls wasn't it?" France asks with a soft chuckle.  
"Yep." Spain replies. "I got them to switch the sides they were sleeping on so they don't get tangled again."  
"Yes, that should solve the problem... Did you check on Prussia?" France asks.  
"Mhm, he's fast asleep on the ground. Must have fallen off the couch." Spain chuckles silently.

France smiles and gets back into bed, pulling the covers over himself. "I should really thank all of you for wanting to help out with this. You didn't have to..."  
"Aw, you don't have to bro." Spain insists. "It's just what brothers do: Helping you out in a hard time. No thanks necessary." He further insists. "Well, Buenas noches!" He says with a smile before quickly drifting off into a deep sleep.

* * *

America kicks and slams his open palms down on his own small table that's attached to his highchair. "Ahabaaba!"  
A bowl of porridge in one hand and a spoon in the other, England scoops some and makes an attempt to feed the fidgety America. "Here comes the birdie!"

England shoves it in America's mouth then pulls the spoon out; having to use some force to do so. America spits the contents out in England's face.  
Scotland laughs as he pushes his plate toward the centre of the table, since he's done. "Let me try bro. You obviously don't know what you're doing."  
"It's not like you could do any better!" England scoffs, grabbing a table cloth and wiping his face clean.

Using magic, Scotland gets the spoon to float. He scoops up some porridge before making it fly around the room. America opens his mouth wide in awe.  
"That's the cue!" Scotland slowly flies the spoon into America's mouth and America bites down on it in response. Scotland pulls the spoon free then places it down.

England folds his arms and scoffs again. "I can do it better than that."

England uses his own powers to give the spoon wings. It flies around the room, circling above the family.  
The spoon flies into the porridge and manages to feed America without America spitting out the food. America eventually grabs the spoon and feeds himself.

"Mother knows best." England teases, eyeing Scotland.

 **Meanwhile...**

"Why doesn't he want the pasta?"  
"Bambini don't eat pasta this young Veneziano... Not even we did." Romano sighs as Canada cries.

France and Spain sigh in unison. "Boys, put that pasta away and we'll feed... Where'd Canada go?" Spain looks in the highchair Canada was seated in. The sound can still be heard but Canada himself can not.  
France screams and drops to the floor, crawling about it in hopes of finding Canada. "Where are you little darling?" France asks, with a scared laugh added at the end.  
"Bambinoooo..." Italy calls out, starting to wander about the dining room.  
"Where are you?!" Romano begins looking in the cupboards, both high and low. "Whatever you do, don't drink that green liquid if you see it."

Spain stays where he is.  
"W-Wahhh!"

Spain looks back at the highchair, the sound is still coming from there even now, so he keeps a close eye on it, firmly grasping onto the bowl filled with mashed vegetables with his left hand, and holding a plastic spoon in the other.  
After some intense staring, Canada begins to reappear in the seat.  
"Ah! Brothers, come back!" Spain calls out. France is there in the blink of an eye, while Romano drags himself back.

"Eh? You never left your seat?" France seems rather confused, but ruffles Canada's hair to calm him down a little.  
"Yeah! It's like he just turned invisible for a moment..." Spain laughs softly, then bending down so he has eye contact with Canada. "How'd you do that? Hmhm." He scoops up some of the mashed vegetables and winks at Canada. "Don't worry, your papa made it so it's delicious!"

* * *

"America, stop fidgeting! The water is fine!"  
"No! Uwah!"

America kicks some soapy water into England's eye. England recoils back and yells, but he keeps America floating above the bath despite having let go of him.

"Is he being difficult again?" NI asks, walking into the bathroom.  
"He kicked soap into my eye..." England replies, splashing himself with clean water with the sink.  
"Want me to call for Scotland?" NI asks.  
"N-NO! I AM PERFECTLY CAPEABLE OF HANDLING THIS MYSELF!" England says.  
Wales peeks in. "Yeah NI... Besides we need to spend more time with our dear Nephew... Scotland keeps hogging him."  
"You have a point there... Let us three do it together." He says, slightly sighing.

NI and Wales approach America, now physically about a year old. America sticks his tongue out at them as if to tease the fact that they will have trouble getting him in the bath.  
"Come here ya little scamp." NI smirks and grabs America, trying to force him in the water.  
America recoils by kicking his legs. NI simply closes his eyes to negate any damage. Once America has been seated in the tub, he starts crying to try and get himself out of it.

"Americaaaa!" Wales calls to get America's attention. America stops splashing and looks at Wales.  
Wales grabs a handful of bubbles, then blows some bubbles away. Out of his hands bounce a rabbit made from the bubbles.  
"Banny!" America giggles, grabbing it and hugging it. Some of it's bubbles pop but it retains it's shape.  
"See? Bath time is fun!" Wales happily laughs.

England pulls out a bottle of shampoo, going by the cover it apparently makes your hair smell like strawberry tea. "Alright America, sit still for me..." England gets on his knees as his brothers have done. He splashes America's head with some water before squirting out some shampoo into his own hand. "Good boy." He says with a smile as he gently scrubs the shampoo into America's hair. "Make sure to close your eyes when we're ready to rinse your hair."  
"Otay!" America replies, giggling.

"The fun's not over yet America..." Wales starts.  
"Watch this..." NI puts his hand in the water, and small pillars of water shoot out.  
"Wow!" America swats at the pillars, fascinated.

After some crying and complaining, America is pulled out of the bath and wrapped up in his red, white and blue striped towel. "Ah, I think you're starting to grow to big for this towel!" England chuckles.  
"Aw, you gave him a bath without me?" Scotland fake-whines upon seeing the three exit the bathroom with a now sleepy America in England's arms.  
"One missed bath time doesn't mean anything, brother." England replies.  
"And I think it's time for his nap... Look at how close he is to dozing off." NI points out, gently ruffling America's hair, still a little wet.  
"Can I nap with him?" Wales jokingly asks.  
"... Last time you actually did, so no." England glares.

 **Meanwhile...**

"Romano! He turned invisible again!" Italy cries.  
"Great..." Romano groans, swishing around in the water. "AND GET THAT POLAR BEAR OUT OF HERE!" He yells, startled by a polar bear cub wandering into the bathroom.  
"Mista Kumajirou!" Canada turns visible once again. He's shown leading against the edge of the bath to stare at the polar bear.  
"CANADA!" Italy freaks out and gently pushes Canada back into the bath. "Phew... You could have fallen out!" Italy gently pets Canada on the head.

The cub is then picked up. "Hey guys!"  
"DEAR PISA!" Romano is startled once more, he slips and falls onto his back.  
"Seborga!" Italy happily greets with arms open wide.  
Seborga glares at them. "Mio fratelli... So this is where you go during the weekdays..." He turns to look at Canada, looking up at him. "Ah, so I'm gonna guess that this cutie is the result of that one night of nurse role-play I stumbled on a few years ago..."

"You would be correct Se- WAIT YOU SAW THAT?!" France says as we walks up to Seborga, a bottle of shampoo in hand; dropping it upon the shock of the newsflash.  
Seborga turns to France and nods. "I locked the door for you on my way out."  
France can't find any words he could use to respond, so he remains in silence.  
"Hey!" Italy attempts to break the silence. "We can all wash Canada together! Spain and Prussia normally do it, don't they? So if two men can handle washing a bambino that can turn invisible, then surely the four of us can!"  
"This looks like fun!" Sebgora says, placing the cub a safe distance away from the bathtub before rushing to it.

"Well, if Spain and Prussia are always laughing about it, it must be fun..." France comments.  
"Why did I just realise you aren't wearing pants?" Romano groans, staring at France.

France sits in the bath with Canada, the bath surprisingly doesn't overflow. "Alright Canada, we're going to shampoo that luscious hair of yours!"  
Italy splashes in the water to have Canads look in his direction. Canada splashes in the same place to mimic him.  
Romano grabs what bubbles are left and gives Canada a beard. Canada scoops the bubbles off of his face and crushes them in his fists. When he opens his fists, small birds made from bubbles fly out.  
"Woah! How did he do that?" Seborga watches the birds fly above them.  
France softly laughs. "Hm, have a nack for magic do you? Just like your mama..." France then begins scrubbing the shampoo into Canada's wavy locks.

After becoming squeaky clean once more, Canada is pulled out of the bath and wrapped up in his red and white towel and taken into the living room.  
"I think you'll need to get him a bigger towel soon France." Seborga notes, poking Canada's toe as it's sticking out of the towel.  
The four stop walking when they see Spain and Prussia sleeping on each other on the couch, then looks at Canada, who yawns. France chuckles. "Maybe everyone should have a nap..."

* * *

"Americaaaa..." England gently nudges America, who's fast asleep in his own bed. "Americaaaa..." He continues.  
America gives in, turning around and sleepily opening his eyes, followed by a yawn.  
"Happy birthday..." England says with a smile, holding out a small brown box with a red ribbon on it.  
"Thanks you mom!" America springs up and hugs England. England smiles. "Uh, it's pronounced 'mum' sweetheart... With a u. How old are you anyway? You must be physically 5 by now for sure..." His words wander off.

England ruffles America's hair as he accepts the gift, then ripping it open. It's a wooden carving of an eagle.  
"Uwah! It look so cool! You did this mom?" America gently holds it in his small hands.  
"Yep. I think it took me around a month to get just right..." England gently chuckles, scooping America up into his arms. "Your uncles also have some presents for you. Let's go see them."  
"Yea!" America pretends to have the Eagle fly through the air by holding it and zooming it around as one would do a toy plane.

"Happy birthday little scamp!" Scotland runs up to America and ruffles his hair happily.  
"Thanks uncle Scotland!" America happily laughs.  
"Happy birthday from us as well!" Wales waves from the couch.  
"England, put him down so he can unwrap his presents." NI requests.

England gently puts America down on the ground, and America runs over to his small pile of presents.  
One is thin and long, another is a normal sized-box, there's a badly wrapped one that wasn't put in a box so you can see the shape of it, and then there's one that's wrapped up neatly with a perfect bow; unlike the other three it has no tag on who it's from.

America chooses to unwrap the normal-sized gift from Wales first. He rips the wrapping paper off and opens the box, it's a bunch of new casual clothes.  
"Awesomes! Did you make yourself uncle Wales?" America asks, pulling out one of the shirts.  
"Sure did! Hope you like them. Ah! Don't get too excited, you should open the other gifts before you try on your new clothes." Wales softly laughs, gently pushing forward Scotland's badly-wrapped gift.  
"Aw, you're gonna love this one!" Scotland says, sounding eager.

America rips off the wrapping paper, underneath it seems to be a bunch of badly-cut jigsaw pieces with a hollowed-out square piece of wood to put the pieces in. The puzzle pieces seem to have the current map of Europe on them.  
"Ah, you make this yourself too?" America asks, looking at Scotland.  
"Of course I did. You like it?" Scotland asks.  
"Yes I do!" America happily sets it to one side before grabbing the long, thin gift that NI got him.

He tears off the wrapping paper and rips open the box and pulls out the contents, holding it in his hands. "What is this?"  
"It's a magic staff. It amplifies and helps users perform magic..." NI briefly explains.  
America runs his hand up the wooden surface of the staff, it feels as if it was snapped right off a tree. At the tip of it sits a small, spherical crystal.

"Ah, yes. Magic runs in the family. We're more than sure you can at least use some magic... Like this!" England picks up the Eagle carving he made. It suddenly gets showered in golden sparkles and it begins flying on it's own.  
"Teach me, teach me!" America eagerly jumps up and down.  
"Well, it takes concentration for one, and a vivid imagination... You also need to-" England gets cut off in his basic magic explanation.  
"Ah, you forgot one gift..." NI holds up a rather flat yet big box.  
America points his staff at it, and attempts to use magic to unwrap it. He focuses his hardest, but only manages to slightly tug at the ribbon.  
"Let's work on that later." England gently tugs the staff away from America, putting it down on the floor. NI then hands America the gift.

America decides to be careful with it, since the wrapping is so perfect. He pulls the box out of the wrapping, opens up the box and pulls out a cape with white stars on a background of red and blue stripes, there is a matching mask. "Ah! This looks so cool!" America puts the mask on and tries to tie the cape on, Scotland ends up helping him to so. He then picks up his staff. "Can I go play outside for a bit? Please mom?"  
England looks down at him. "How can I say no to that face? Just make sure someone's watching you." England agrees, setting some rules.  
"I'll watch him." Scotland offers.  
"Yay! Let's go!" America runs off with Scotland following.

England picks up the seemingly untouched wrapping paper, and stares at it for a bit. "Oh France... At least I can agree on you with one thing."

 **Meanwhile...**

"Mmmmm... Canada..." France strokes Canada's hair in hopes to wake him up.  
Canada rubs his eyes gently, then blinking to focus. "Ah, Papa!"  
"Do you know what day it is?" France asks.  
"Um... Um..." Canada taps his head, trying to think. He turns to his pet polar bear, who was resting beside him. "Any ideas Kumatora?" He asks.  
"Who are you?" Kumajirou asks back.  
"Je m'appelle Canada..." Canada responds.

"You can't have forgotten your birthday, now could you?" France pulls out a box from behind his back.  
"Thanks you papa!" Canada graciously takes the gift, undoes the tape and then pulls the box out of the wrapping. Opening it, the contents are a white cape with a red leaf design on it and a matching mask. Canada puts the mask on and manages to put the cape on by himself. "Can I go show oncle Spain?"  
"Of course. I'm almost sure that your Zii Italy, Romano and Seborga would like to see you in this as well!" France adds.  
"Ah, of course!" Canada crawls out of bed then runs down the hall with Kumajirou following soon after. His uncles are sitting on the couches, surrounding a small pile of presents.

"Happy birthday Canada!" They cheer in harmony.  
"Thanks you!" Canada runs up to Spain and jumps in his lap.  
Spain smiles. "Still the favourite uncle it seems." He happily laughs.

The front door then slams open. Prussia comes running with a gift in hand. "DON'T WORRY, PRUSSIA IS HERE!" He exclaims, halting in front of Spain. "Heh, you look cool like that, squirt." He compliments Canada, before holding out his present.  
"Ah, thanks Mr. Prussia!" Canada days, repeating his unwrapping process form earlier. Instead of a box, it's a big plush of a white bird. "It so cute!" He says, giving it a quick hug.

Romano picks up the gift that isn't wrapped at all. "You're gonna love our gift Canada. Us three all pitched in to make it!" He happily hands it over to Canada.  
"Yes! Took us a while to collect all the things for it..." Seborga admits.  
"Originally it was going to be for your Papa but he kinda burst into tears at the sight of it." Italy chuckles slightly.  
France glares at Italy, but looks at Canada pull the lid off of the box.  
"What's this book?" Canada pulls out a book that's bigger than his head.  
"It's a photo album!" Italy says, pulling back the cover. On the first page is an image of France proudly holding a newborn Canada in what looks like a hospital room. The left side of the photo is ripped.  
"Is the photo meant to have rip?" Canada asks.  
"It was... Damaged, that's all." Seborga makes an excuse for France.  
They flip through some of the pages. It's family photos of them as well as pictures of Canada from the years before.  
"I love it!" Canada exclaims, then closing the album for the time being, then looking at Spain as Italy takes the album away and places it on the table.

France picks up the gift from Spain, handing it to Canada.  
Canada opens it carefully, making sure not to rip the wrapping paper. The contents of the wrapping paper is another box. lifting the lid of the box reveals a bunch of cotton. Canada digs through the cotton and pulls out a frame that already has a picture in it. It's from last year, the picture that is. Canada is sitting in France's lap, while France himself sits in a regal-looking chair. Spain stands proudly to his left, and Prussia stands next to Spain. Prussia is giving Spain 'bunny ears'. To the right of France stand Romano, Italy and Seborga in that order. Romano looks a little grumpy as usual but seems to be giving a smile anyway. Italy has his arms wrapped around his brothers, and Seborga is giving a peace-sign.  
The frame itself is of high-quality wood, but looks hand-painted to show all their current flags.  
"J'aime beaucoup!, thanks you!" Canada says, giving Spain a hug.  
"No problem Canada." Spain hugs him back.

France notices another present. "Hm? But there's only..." France picks it up. It only says 'To Canada'.  
"You have one more present Canada!" France hands the small present to Canada.

Unlike the other presents, Canada feels the urge to rip the wrapping right off of the box, before lifting the lid. He pulls out whatever is in the small box - a carved wooden beaver. "Look! It so detailed!" Canada says with a smile. He stares at it before it starts moving on its own, rolling and running though the air, Canada follows it.

France watches as Canada runs around the room and he leans himself against the wall. "Not bad England... Not bad..."


	10. Pieces of a puzzle

"Alright now America... From now on, you have to live on your own and take care of your country..." England says, trying to keep his voice from breaking.  
"Why can't I stay with you?" America asks, tilting his head to the side slightly.  
"I wish it wasn't this way either... If I had it my way, I'd let you live with me and your uncles until you got sick of it. But I'll always be around. I'll always send you birthday presents, christmas presents, easter presents, and even if you just want something... Say the word and I'll do my best to get it for you." England replies, gently holding America's hands.  
"Mom, are you... Crying?"  
"...Yes." England doesn't bother to try hiding his sorrow and pulls America into a hug. "And it's Mum sweetie... With a U... A U for I will always love you."  
"...I love you too. Promise you'll visit?" America replies, pulling out of the hug to look England in the eyes.  
"Of course. I'll visit as often as I can. Take good care of yourself, alright?" England responds, completely letting go of America and standing up. The two stare at each other for one silent minute.

"Alright time to go bro." Scotland walks up to England, picking him up and throwing him over the shoulder before walking off.  
"CAN'T I AT LEAST STAY THE NIGHT YOU HEARTLESS BRUTE?!" England complains while tears are still streaming down his face. He slams on the back of Scotland.  
"Quit your whinin', it's not like you'll never see him again... You even said you'd visit." Scotland replies, not bothered by England's flailing. "Cya later kid!" He waves to America.  
"Bye mom! Bye uncle Scotland!" America waves, not taking any of England's complaints to heart. He turns around to stare at his new house. It's only a single storey unlike the house he had called home up until now.  
"Guess I should start unpacking..." America pulls out a key and shoves it in the lock of the front door, turning it then pushing the door open.

* * *

"Canada my darling boy..." France starts off while looking at Canada on one knee, almost failing to utter out more words due to forming tears. "You have to live here now, in your own country... Y... You're a big boy now, I'm sure you can handle it."  
"Papa, you're crying..." Canada reaches up and wipes France's tears away. France looks at Canada's caring, soft violet eyes and he pulls Canada in close.  
"I know I am... And like I've said..."  
"It's okay to cry." They say in synch.  
"Especially if it feels as if your heart is breaking..." France sobs some more.  
"I'm not leaving you forever Papa, you're allowed to visit aren't you?" Canada tries to cheer him up.  
"I know... This is somewhat silly of me. I don't think I'll ever be ready to let you go, but I guess I must sometime..." France softly chuckles, kissing Canada on his forehead, then pulling back.

Just then, Prussia comes running.  
"DON'T WORRY! I'M HERE TO SEND YA OFF!" He shouts, then stopping as he reaches France and Canada. He picks Canada up and gives him a big hug. "Hope you didn't really think I'd forget to say bye!"  
"Hehe, of course not... You're just... Um, fashionably late! T-that's how you put it right?" Canada replies with a smile.  
"Yep!" Prussia ruffles Canada's hair. "Just as soft as it was all those years ago..." He softly laughs, putting Canada down. "Now let's go Francey! Let the kid take care of himself starting from... Now!" Prussia suddenly grabs France's arm and runs off, dragging him.  
"I LOVE YOU!" France calls out as he is dragged away.  
Canada waves back. "Love you too papa!" Canada does his best to shout back, but it only comes out as a louder-than-normal voice. He turns around to his house. Vastly different from the spacious house he had lived in with his father and more simplistic.  
"I should be able to handle this..." Putting the key in then turning it, Canada unlocks the front door and enters his new home.

* * *

The boys manage to take care of themselves for a good solid week, but they're getting rather lonely...

* * *

" _I was repeatedly told before I left to never cross the boarder until told, but... What border? I thought I was the only one here?_ "

The border separating the land of America and Canada. What happens when one of them cross it?

"The ground lights up with a line that spans across miles... Just like I've seen before. Another country is beyond this."

"N-no. I shouldn't cross. Who knows what they're like?"  
"I'm gonna cross. Someone is better than no one."

As America triumphantly slams his foot down on the surface beyond his territory, he feels nothing, but hears something.  
"Ah! T-this feeling..!" Canada yelps out. He can feel the energy of the other country coming into his land, but he doesn't hear anything.

"It came from that way!"

The two boys unknowingly begin running toward each other. America's boots kick away any rocks that come his way. Canada stumbles, attempting to carry Kumajirou and keep him from slipping away.

They stop upon seeing each other.

"You must be the-"

Two steps closer.

Silence.

Two more steps.

"Why do you-?"

One more step and they are face to face with each other. They gaze at each other, their sights set on digging into each other's eyes.

"I'm sure I've seen you before, sometime long gone." They utter to each other. "Why do you have my face? Why can't I remember your name? Why are we saying the same things?!" They question each other.

They go silent, shaking off the original conversation long into the distance.  
"I'm America." America introduces himself with a big, bright smile.  
"W-well I'm Canada..." Canada responds, slowly turning invisible. "A-ah!" He quickly puts his polar bear down and pats himself all over, this somehow makes himself visible once more. "Sorry about that. I've been doing this since I was little... Eh..." He nervously scratches the side of his cheek.  
"You can use magic? That's so cool! I can too but I have so much trouble even getting things to float! I wish I got all that magic inheritance from my mom..." America replies, slightly complaining.  
"Y-you have a magic mom? I do too! Although I never met them... Papa always kept saying how I had a knack for magic 'just like your mama'..." Canada replies.  
"W-well... My mom isn't really a 'mom', if you can say that... Mine is a guy but was my 'carrier' so that's why I call em mom." America explains. "I have some pictures I can show you!"  
"Really?!" Canada gets a little excited. "I have a bunch of pictures too, in a photo album! It was a gift from my uncles... Apparently Papa cried when he looked at the pictures so he gave them to me... We should show them to each other..." He softly laughs.  
"Yeah! Uh... Where's your house? I can go get my pictures and then run straight there!" America insists.  
"I'll show you." Canada takes his fellow nation by the hand, leading the way to his house. "Right here... You gonna run now, eh?"  
"Yep!" America sprints off without a second word. Canada softly smiles and enters his house to get everything ready.

America returned a mere 20 minutes later, carrying a bag full of photos. He excitedly burst through the door and halted upon getting inside.  
"That was fast." Canada compliments, ushering him to the room on the right. It was a lounge room, equipped with a bookshelf, two normal shelves with some valuables on each, two couches, a table and a hearty fireplace that was currently active; no windows to be seen though.

The album was laid open on the table, on a page where three young men all with matching curls were holding up Canada - looking a little younger than he does now, probably physically 9, while he is now physically about 12. In turn, America spills the contents of his bag all over the table. There are at least 5 dozen photos, a notable one on top of the pile is a young America - about physically 5 - holding some kind of staff while seated in the lap of a man who looks rather smug to be taking the picture; America seems to be happily staring up at him.

"Are those your uncles?" America asks Canada, pointing to the men with the curls.  
Canada replies with a nod "Italy, Romano and Seborga." He points them out, then pointing to the man. "Who's that?" Canada asks back.  
"Oh, that's uncle Scotland, but I call him uncle Scotty!" America chuckles a little. "Don't tell anyone but he was my favourite uncle." America whispers.  
"My favourite had to be uncle Spain..." Canada flips by a few pages, landing on a picture with himself sitting comfortably in the arms of a messy-haired figure with a crushed tomato on his head, his face looked as if it was of a man that looked reluctant to grow up, but smiling nonetheless. "That's him." Canada answers before America can ask.

"So, does it go from beginning to current? I wanna see the first page!" America almost demands, grabbing the pages and pulling them all over so the first page is what is seen.

The page has a single image, ripped diagonally on one side. It's a blonde man with long hair holding a newborn baby, likely Canada.  
America's facial expression freezes on shocked, mixed with realisation. Dropping the expression before Canada can question it, America pulls out a similar image from the pile: An image ripped on the opposite side to the other. A blonde man with messy hair and thick eyebrows lays in a hospital bed and is holding a baby of his own, probably America.

"Where'd you get that?!" Canada asks, now looking just as shocked.  
America doesn't say a word, gently placing his image next to the other so the ripped lines meet.

The boys stare at the now complete image for a while, letting the new information sink in. It's almost as clear as glass.

"How did your papa describe the day you were born? If at all?" America asks, not parting his gaze away from the image.  
"Ah... I know he told me... Uh... I think he described it as 'The best worst day'... Apparently it was the day he broke up with mama..." Canada briefly explains.  
"Well, my mom described it as 'The darkest day with the brightest ray'... I was confused but he said that's the day it all came crashing down and I was the only good thing to happen that day. Although, uncle Scotty cleared a few things about that saying 'It was the of regret since it was to late to win back your father's heart'..." America adds to the situation. "But... What does this all mean? We're so close to a sure answer, I can feel it!"  
"Do you have any more photos of your mom?" Canada asks, looking through the pile. "Ah! This picture must have-" Upon pulling out a picture of what looked to be the long-haired man enjoying a summer's day underneath a tree and having a picnic, the full image shows the messy-haired and thick-eyebrowed man sitting next to him, almost snuggling up to him. They look... Happy.

"There's no mistaking it, that's my mom with your dad!" America says.  
"But what are they doing together..?" Canada questions.

America turns to him. "When did your father say you were born? Not the birthday of your nation, but you..."  
"J-July 2nd..." Canada answers.  
"..." America looks back at the two half pictures that make a whole one.

"I think I know the answer... Our same faces, same physical ages, same thing going on where our only parent never refers to the other by name... You're my twin brother, Canada."

Canada is at first surprised by the conclusion, but he quickly comes to accept it. "W-what are we going to do though? This discovery is great but... Our parents... I don't think they wanted us to find out this way. What are we going to do?"  
"Ignore that. We should surprise em! You can visit mom and I'll visit dad! That way, we will know for sure if our current theory holds." America says.  
"Alright... L-lets do this, eh!" Canada happily agrees to the plan.

* * *

"Hey bro, someone's knocking at the door... And last time I checked it was your turn to answer." Scotland calls out to England with a smug tone, relaxing on the couch, playing around with a small floating bubble of water.  
"Alright you... Urgh..." England groans from the bedroom, getting off his bed. He walks toward the door and pulls it open. "Alright who-" Upon looking down, England's heart almost explodes with sheer joy. "C-Canada..."  
"You know my name?" Canada softly tilts his head.

England bows his head down to cover his face with shadows. "Of course I do... I'd be a terrible parent if I were to forget my own son's name." A tear falls from his face. He bends down then lifts his face up once more. It's already wet with tears. "I don't care why you came here or if you even knew about what I just said... But my heart was shattered when your father took you away..." England pulls Canada into a hug. "I must have missed so much... I wish I could have been there... For everything."  
"It's okay mama..." Canada hugs England back softly.

"What's going on?" NI walks up to them, eating an apple. His jaw drops and the chewed up apple falls out of it upon seeing Canada. "Is that..?"  
England picks up Canada, still holding him. "Yeah..."  
NI gives England a small smile and uses his free hand to wipe England's face dry of tears. "Bring him in." NI ushers.  
Canada looks at NI curiously. "Which country are you?"  
"Me? I'm Northern Ireland. But just call me NI for short, alright? Scotland's in the living room, Wales... I have no idea where he is." NI introduces himself.  
"Ah, so you're my uncles!" Canada bounces happily.  
NI nods. "Come on, I bet Scotland will be stoked to finally see you in person."

* * *

"Knocking..? Italy doesn't normally come at this time..." France stands up, walking away from his tea and table and toward the door. Unlocking it, he pulls the door open, clasping one hand to his mouth upon seeing America, quickly coming to tears.  
America just smiles innocently. "Hi dad."

France shivers in place, not out of fear or because of a chill, but because he's trying to hold in tears. His eyes relax and close. He pulls away his hand to reveal a smile of what looks like relief and acceptance. "So many years... You were so small, yet so loud..." He happily laughs, getting down to his knees to look America in the eyes and hold his chin up. France's soft fingertips gently brush against America's dirty yet squishy skin. "Beautiful blue eyes... Never thought to ask where you got those? Not once? You got them from me." He chuckles a little more before pulling America into a hug.  
America hugs France back, taking a deep breath. "You smell like roses." He giggles.  
France lets out a laugh, pulling America up. "I'll make you lunch, and I'll invite over your uncles! Oh... I'm so glad this day came no later..." France blurts out, letting tears simply fall out.

America rubs his hands all over France's face, attempting to wipe the tears dry. "You don't have to cry now dad."  
"I-I'm sorry. I just have too much happiness to contain within just one emotion..." France chuckles, kissing America on his forehead before shutting the door.


	11. Truce for the night

"America, are you sure this is a good idea?"  
"Oh come on, don't doubt me! Even though they probably still hate each other, it might rekindle their lost spark! Besides, how can they say no to our precious face?"

America sets out four plates around the edges of the table, surrounding the huge pile of food: A turkey in the middle. "Besides, I've said that Thanksgiving is meant to be spent with family! I thought I'd start small and just invite our parents. If we invited our uncles... Oh geez!" He laughs a little.  
"I suppose your right... Will I have to leave Mr. Komotato at home then?" Canada asks, his bear at his feet.  
"Who are you?" Kumajirou asks, looking up at his owner.  
"I'm Canada..." Canada sighs.

* * *

"Oh, it's been ages since America has actually wanted me to come over! I hope he's prepared..." England mutters to himself, walking up to the porch of America's house. The green and red plaid scarf he wears flutters in the wind, as does the parts of his tan coat that aren't buttoned up to anything. His boots crunch against the dirt and grass as he walks.

"I can't wait! America said he prepared everything all by himself! I bet everything will look stunning..." France gawks to himself, happily clasping his hands together. His thick blue, woollen coat doesn't flutter well in the breeze, and his matching blue beanie is firmly stuck to his head. His ponytail almost looks as if it's floating in the wind. His soft boots gently tread over the landscape.

As they step up to the porch, they look at each other. It takes them both a second look to realise who the other is.  
"YOU!" They shout at each other.

"Insufferable twat!" France launches out his insult first.  
"Disgusting frog!" England attacks back.

"Why are you here?!" England starts up. "I was invited to Thanksgiving dinner, you-"  
"I was too!" France cuts him off. "If anyone shouldn't have been invited it's you!"  
"Why you..!" England clenches his fists.

America slams open the front door. "You're both here! Great!" He says with a smile, grabbing them by their arms without anytime for questions.  
"Ah! Mama, Papa." Canada greets them with a smile.  
The two men stop glaring at each other, trying to put on their best behaviour.  
"Good evening Canada..." England greets him back.  
"Bonsoir son." France says as his greeting.  
"Hang your coats and stuff guys, we can begin eating in a minute!" America reassures his parents with a smile, winking.

England nods, pulling his scarf off and walking to the coat rack, hanging it on. France does the same with his beanie.  
"... How long has it been?" England asks, taking his coat off to reveal his plain green shirt and jeans.  
This attire is similar to France: England wore this on the day they sealed the fate of where their marriage would head... But, as if it's irony, France is wearing his attire from that day too: A black shirt and jeans.  
All France can think about is that night...  
"February 14th wasn't it?" France says with a soft chuckle.  
"Febu... HEY! THAT WAS THE DAY WE GOT MARRIED YOU-"  
"50th Anniversary... It's funny, our clothes are the exact same now as they were on that night." France can't help but chuckle, hanging up his own coat.

England goes silent. He's starting to think that if he didn't push France to have kids that night, they may still be together.  
"Dumb wanker... Why do you remember that out of all things?!" He replies, not wanting to be soft on France, thinking he will just lose him again if he opens up again.

"You done? Come on, let's eat!" America calls out.

* * *

Halfway through the dinner, America brings out the alcohol, bottles of beer and wine.  
"Oh! Wine? Don't mind if I do." France happily laughs, pouring himself a glass.  
"W-well if France is having wine, I'll have some of that!" England grabs the bottle of beer and pours himself a full cup.  
"Y-you alright there?" France looks a little concerned, as well as shocked that England was ready to drink that much.  
"Mama, please don't..." Canada ushers with a sigh, knowing that England will drink too much.

England ignores them, chugging down the beer in one go, then pouring himself another round.

"Mom, save some for me!" America says with a chuckle, trying to reach for the bottle.  
France smacks his hand away. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"  
Canada softly sighs. "Can we talk about something else? Oh, Papa... What have you gotten up to lately?" He tries to start a conversation.

France's attention shifts to Canada. "Me? Oh, not much really..." France swirls the wine in his glass without spilling any. "I've been rather lonely lately, despite often going out to talk to the people that live in my land..."  
"I try doing that, but everyone seems to ignore me, eh..." Canada softly chuckles.  
England puts down what seems like his fourth cup. "God blimey how strong is this..." He hiccups. "Oh fuck I um... The Queen! And..." England already seems rather out of it.  
"Oh that? Russia gave it to me for my birthday earlier this year! We've become pretty good buds ever since you gave me independence a few years ago!" America chuckles.  
"You're friends with R-Russia?!" England hiccups. "YOU'RE NO SON OF MINE!" He exclaims, proceeding to change to drinking the wine before slamming his head on the table, then groaning.  
"Mama, you alright?!" Canada expresses concern.

France sighs before chuckling. "I'm afraid your mother's ability to hold alcohol down is... Above average, on good days." Pulling out of his seat and placing his glass down, France then picks England up bridal-style. "If it's alright with you America, I'm going to let your mother have some rest in your bed... Alright?"  
"Sure dad." America gives the thumbs-up of approval.  
France replies with a smile, making his way to the bedroom.

Laying England on the bed, France looks down at the now drunk England, almost in pity.  
Before he can walk off, England grabs France's arm before using his free arm to point at the door and slam it shut, using magic most likely.

"England, what are you doing?"

England's cries sound like a depressed whale.  
"I've been so lonely France... You've left a gaping hole in my heaaaart..." England sobs out, pulling France down onto the bed. "Why did you leave meeeeee?" He wails. "Why was I such an arsehole?" He questions out-loud.  
"England, you're drunk... You don't mean these things." France tries to convince himself, wanting to block-out the truth that he still loved England deep-down.  
"I need to be loved agaiiiiin..." England continues to cry, then looking France deep into the eyes. His face turning pink not just from the alcohol.  
"England, stop this." France tries to persuade him, but it's no use.

England slowly begins pulling his shirt off, making France blush with sheer confusion.  
"P-pleasure me France..." England says, pulling his pants and underwear down. "Fuck me hard..." England gently strokes France's arm, pulling up his sleeve to feel the hair that coats it. "Do it till I scream your name..."  
"N-no! I won't take advantage of you!" France tries to insist.  
England ignores the remark, pulling the rest of France's shirt off.  
"M-Mon Dieu!" France cries as the force of the pull is rather shocking. "You're drunk England, I can't-"  
"You can and you will." England says in an almost commanding tone, pulling Francis down onto him.

England chuckles, his breath smells bad due to the alcohol. "Let's build that Eiffel tower then..."

England rubs his already hardened length against France's stomach. France reacts by flinching in pleasure, holding in his moans.  
Not satisfied, England unbuttons France's pants before sliding his hand down into France's underwear.  
"E-England!" France yelps, his breaths getting heavier.  
England gives France a smirk. "You liking that are ya love?"  
France is trying his best to keep his mouth held shut, but it's no use in the end. He gasps out a loud moan and his eyes go from innocent to lustful. He launches himself at England biting down on his neck as he pulls down his own pants.  
"Ah~ F-France..." England moans in pleasure.

"L-let me put it in..."

England removes his hand from France's length. It's rock-hard now. "Do it."  
France happily obliges, shoving it right in.  
England moans loudly.  
"I haven't even started thrusting yet you debile." France can't help but chuckle, before he actually starts thrusting.  
England's breathing becomes loud and weighted, unable to form words due to how amazed he is by how well France is pleasuring him.  
"Speechless eh? I know." France chuckles some morel, leaning forward to dig his tongue into England's mouth, slapping England's tongue around. England began fighting back, wanting France to hit back harder.

Once France was done, he pulled his mouth away from the action, giving room for England to breathe.  
"Never thought I'd see the mighty English empire look so weak and helpless like this..."

France then grabbed England's thighs and began rubbing them, still thrusting, but started cranking it up to full force.  
"F-France!" England moans.  
"Louder..." France taunts.  
"Oh France, France, France... FRANCE!" England cries to the heavens, chanting France's name.  
"Yes... YES!" France cries back at him.

Little do the pair know, their kids are leaning against the bedroom door, listening in.  
"Heh, Mom bottoms so hard." America chuckles.  
"Do you think they can hear us?" Canada asks in a whisper.  
"I doubt it. They're screaming each other's names so loud that if I yelled they'd think it's the other." America laughs a little.  
"Should we even be listening to this? They're our... Parents." Canada expresses his concerns, feeling a little awkward.

"DON'T STOP FRANCE!" England just about screams.  
"I WON'T FOR JUST A LITTLE LONGER!" France shouts back.

'Just a little longer' was roughly 10 more minutes. By this point, England was basically numb below the waist and and France was almost ready to collapse.

"E-England... I'm gonna..." France pants.  
"T-then release already!" England gasps out.

As France releases, the two mean moan in synch one last time. France then pulls out and collapses onto the bed, pulling England close to him. "Hmmm... Haven't had a time like that in decades..."  
"Centuries... It's been centuries." England corrects him with a hiccup.  
France laughs and strokes England's hair. "Hope you'll get feeling back in your ass tomorrow." He says as he slaps England's ass.

* * *

The sun rises in the sky once more.  
England pushes himself up and rubs his head. "Oh fucking blimey... My head..." Rubbing his eyes then blinking rapidly, he looks around. "Isn't this America's room..? I'm... Naked?" He feels down his chest to his legs, then nods. "Yes I am... What did I do after drinking all that last night..?" Looking to his right, he spots the sleeping France, who seems to be shirtless at the least. England recoils in horror. "Oh god... Did we..?"

England is quick to start dressing himself. Standing up proves to be a challenge because his legs and ass hurt when not snug on a soft surface. He taps his toes together and begins floating, for ease of movement in this state. Picking up and putting on his clothes, he wanders across the big mirror in the room. While the mirror itself is of an abnormally large size, it still doesn't match the size of America's ego. Looking at his reflection, he sees that hickeys almost completely cover his neck. "Just fucking brilliant... Bloody frenchies don't know how to keep to themselves." He groans. "At least I have a scarf..." He says, floating out of the room and to the coat rack, slipping into his coat and wrapping the scarf around his neck. He looks through the doorway that leads into the dining area they ate in last night, it seems America didn't bother to clean it up. Floating through the room and into the living room, America and Canada are seen asleep on the couch, Canada using America as a mattress.

"Well, at least they can't catch me sneaking out..." England whispers to himself, turning to float out. "Hope no one questions my scarf on the way home..."


	12. If I could I relive those days

"Oh England... What happened?"  
France flips through a photo album, reminiscing over old pictures. He stops on a certain page and pulls out one of the photos to stare at it closely.

The photo is of both him and England. It's when they were much younger. France is in his blue dress with white stockings and flat black shoes while England is in his hand-me-town tunic-esque clothes with his green cape.  
In the image, France is holding onto England as England relaxes in his lap. Their surroundings is that of a forest, with thick grass, tall trees and piercing rays that make their hair and skin sparkle.  
"I used to pick on him so much when we were little." France softly chuckles. "Ah, he was so cute when he got mad... But it quickly turned into terrifying. There was that on time he summoned a bunch of bees to chase me, didn't he?" He puts the photo back and turns a few pages and pulls up another one. "And look at this one..." The people in the photo seem to be in their teens, aside from England. France seems to be the one holding the camera to take the picture, Spain has his arms wrapped around both France and Prussia and Prussia is giving Spain bunny ears. England is below Spain, not looking to happy. "Hey... Wasn't that the day where I..." Putting the photo back and picking up the one next to it shows a teen France and a pre-teen England sleeping in the same bed. France's mouth is wide open and drooling, while England is curled up but using France's chest as a pillow. "Yeah, it was."

He puts the photo back, and continues to flip through it. He stops on one of the pages and can't help but laugh. He pulls it out.  
It seems like an party of some kind, perhaps a birthday? The ones seen in the picture are a passed out Romano, drunk Italy, naked Spain, France laughing so hard that he's crying, Seborga just chilling on one of the tables and Prussia in some strange costume that looks half destroyed. "Every time I look at this it makes me laugh."  
Looking at the finer details, the picture was taken late into the night, and the party looks like it was for Canada... But Canada looks like he was put to bed before this phase of the party started. "Although I forget how my eyes got so wet..." Francis comments, obviously having a blank about why he was laughing so hard. "And... What in the actual hell is on Prussia's head?" France takes a closer look. Whatever it is, it seems to have been smashed repeatedly.

"Oh gosh, these pictures aren't even in chronological order... What's my baby picture doing back here? And I think I saw a teen photo of England a few pages back... Ah, I should organise this. I have nothing better to do after all."

Getting out of his comfy sofa to sit at the dining table, he begins removing the images.  
The task doesn't seem too difficult at first, but as he piles up the photos, he can't help but start sobbing.

"We were so happy, why did I ruin it?" He cries.

Every few seconds, he wipes his tears away with the back of his hand.  
With his other hand, he picks up a photo.  
England is in his wedding dress. His arms - covered by long white gloves - wrap under and over France's shoulders. His head rests under France's. France himself has his arms wrapped around England's waist, and he seems to be snuggling up to England.

France pulls himself up out of his chair and puts the photo down, he slams his fist against the wall as his tears fall out. "I started it, and ended it... Why? **Why?** "

His knees failed him, making him fall to the floor. All he could ask himself was... _Why?_

* * *

"I haven't been feeling to well these days..."  
England sips his tea. He gently rocks back and forth in his rocking chair, a thick blanket lays on his lap, coating his legs. Putting his tea down, he looks at his bookshelf.

"Well, I guess I have nothing better to do..." He lets out a soft, relaxed sigh, picking up the blanket then standing up. He hits his back with his fist as he stands up, before walking over to the bookshelf. Pulling out each book then pushing it back in, he can't seem to choose a book.  
"Hm, maybe I should get Scotland to- oh wait... I moved out last year... That's right. Don't think they'd want to put up with me in my current whiny state anyway..." He softly chuckles before going back to trying to choose a book.  
As he pulls back another book, a photo falls out.

"What's this..?" Bending down then standing back up, he stares at the photo, then giving a gentle sigh when he sees that it's of him and France. They're sat at a dinner table with France being the one in charge of the camera. France has his hair tied up and the two are in casual clothing. England seems to be eating some food off a fork that France shoved in his mouth. They seem to be at home but with the dim lighting and the candles it sets a romantic mood one would normally see at a restaurant.  
"Haven't looked at the photos in what feels like forever... May as well."

He pulls out the photo album and goes back to sit down, placing the blanket back over his lap.

"I've lost track... How many decades worth of memories are in here?" Laying the album on his lap afterwards, he opens it. First page is simply images with him and his brothers. The three sit next to each other with a lone, unwilling figure in the distance, probably Ireland. In a rather happy Scotland's lap lies a baby England. "Heh, didn't know those brutes could be gentle with me." He takes a quick sip of his tea before turning a few pages. "Oh, I remember this... Spain and France were the only two to come to my birthday that year. France's present was a kiss on the cheek... Aha, I yelled at him for days telling him how it was a stupid gift." The image is of a pre-teen France - in his feminine attire once more - with a flower crown around his head. He's placing a matching flower crown on a young England's head. England's puffing up his cheeks with embarrassment and annoyance, as well as folding his arms. He lets out a relaxed sigh and turns the pages once more.

Taking quick glances at most of the photos, he glues his eyes to another one at last. He squints his eyes in an attempt to hold in his tears.  
"The... The night he... Spain must have..."  
In the image, the two are dressed rather casually, while still looking arguably stylish. England is wearing brown boots that almost go up to his knees with some white pants. His shirt is a red colour but you can barely see it since his thick brown coat covers most of his body. Sheer tears of joy soak England's face, and his right hand covers his mouth, with his left dangling by his side.  
France is wearing similar boots, although in the colour black, but his pants completely match England's. His long black coat is simply hung over his shoulders, allowing one to see a proper white shirt, buttoned up, sleeves neatly folded just at the end of it and he probably has a tie to go along with it. Once more his hair is tied back into a ponytail. France is on one knee, holding out a small box containing a ring.

England slams the photo album shut before he can ruin the photos with his tears. "I was so horrible to him for no good reason. I was too bloody stubborn..."

Leaning back, England shuts his teary eyes. "Apologies will get me no where now. If I only I could turn back time to where it all went wrong... If only..."


	13. Mom, you're a terrible mom

"So, how long did you say you'd stay over mom?" America asks, pulling the carton of milk out of the fridge.

"Shut up I'll stay as long as I want." England replies, sternly sipping his tea as he sits on the sofa.

America sighs, pouring himself a cup of milk. "I'm starting to think my behaviour is rubbing off on you..." He puts the carton back in the fridge then closes the door to it.  
England ignores the remark, finishing off his tea then pouring himself some more. "I need more biscuits."  
"Don't you mean cooki-"  
"I MEAN BISCUITS!" England shouts.

America, startled by the shouting backs off a bit and chuckles nervously. "W-whatever you say! Man... You've been acting rather emotional since you got here... And eating all my food and then later regretting your decision by throwing it all up in the toilet, you complain about everything and burst into tears at random... You sure you don't wanna-"  
"I NEED COMPANY DAMMIT!" England wails, almost bursting into tears.  
America sighs, walking up to England. "Do you need another hug?"  
"NO! YES! OH GOD I DON'T KNOW!" He sobs, pulling America in. "WHY CAN'T YOU BE AS SOFT AS CANADA?"  
America silently sighs, gently petting his mother out of what seems to be pity.

Arthur eventually stopped crying and let go, pushing America back to stand up. "I need to use the bathroom."  
"Again? You went like half an hour ago." America seems baffled. England had only drunk around two or three cups of tea during that time.  
"Be quiet." England sighs, taking a few steps forward.  
With each step, he becomes shakier.

By the 10th step, he can barely stand up, so he lunges at America to grab onto him to pull himself up.  
"Mom, what's wrong?" America asks, pulling England up a little more.  
England's eyes shut in pain for a few seconds, and he clenches onto America's shoulders. "C-carry me to bed... Now."  
America internally freaks out, but scoops up England and rushes to the bedroom, lying England on the bed before pulling the blankets over him.

England seems to be in some kind of unknown pain.

"B... Bugger. It's happening again... S-should have seen this coming..." England manages to chuckle out, he begins sweating.  
"A-again?! What do I do?! What's going on?!" America freaks out, frantically looking around the room.

England grabs America's arm. "Just stay with me... Please..." He pleads.  
America gulps down his nerves, nodding. He forces himself to calm down, just so his mother wouldn't get worse.

* * *

It takes half an hour of waiting and listening to the painful groans of England until something happens.  
"A-AGH!" England yells. He clutches onto the pillows in pain. America shields his eyes as a white light flashes, emitting from England. Once it's safe to look, two balls of light hover above the two of them. As the balls of light shrink, the shape of babies form and crying is heard. They gently float into the arms of America.

One baby has soft, dirty-blonde or light-brown looking hair. The hair curls up at the sides.  
The other has hair that looks dry and messy and in a similar vein to Austria's, but with two ahoges instead of just one. It's a darkish blonde colour now, but looks as if it could burn to a dark brown if exposed to sunlight...  
Both of them have inherited England's thick eyebrows.

America looks at the crying twins then back at the now exhausted looking England. "Mom... You were..."  
England nods. "Realised it all to late too..."  
"So that means, at thanksgiving..."  
"...I suppose so."

America can't help but perk up and checks them all over. "So these two are my little brothers?" He almost squeals.  
England nods then holds out his arms. "C-can I hold them?"  
"They're so cute! Aw, they got you're eyebrows... Don't think dad will be happy about tha-"  
"Give them to me. And go find towels in the Bathroom." England glares with menacing eyes, looking ready to choke a bitch.  
America gives in, handing the crying twins to England then running off. This immediately makes him happy. England kisses his new children on their foreheads, this calms them down to almost silence.

Walking into the bathroom, America sees two small and neatly folded blankets. Both are blue, but one is decorated with red stars and the other with white. Two tags hang out, they read 'Australia' and 'New Zealand'. America picks up the blankets and walks back to the bedroom. England looks up at him as he returns.  
"Ah, so those are their names... Australia and New Zealand... Wonder where those countries are located." He hands the baby with the messy hair and ahoges to America, and America hands one of the blankets to England to use on the other.  
"Hm, looks like you're gonna be Australia little bro!" America then wraps the young Australia in the blanket.

Australia's eyes open. They're a rustic leafy green colour. He stares right into America's eyes. "Gyah!" He babbles.  
"I like this one." America happily chuckles, holding out a finger for Australia to grab. Australia does as expected... And sticks it in his mouth. America then looks over at England. "So, when are we gonna tell dad and-"  
"We aren't." England says.

"W-what?!"

"You heard me."

America sits next to England, feet still on the floor. "Why not?!"  
England remains silent for some amount of time. "France... He'll be furious with me for not telling him..."  
"What's that got to do with anything?!" America complains.  
"... I do still love your father, If he finds out that I..." England holds down the rest of the sentence. "I just still want to have a chance with him."

America glares at England, thinking he's gone insane.

"So, don't tell France... Or your brother... Or anyone else just to be safe. Alright? They've got my eyebrows, everyone will think they're my brothers..." England pleads, looking at America.  
America still looks rather stern, but drops the look and sighs. "Fine..."

* * *

After a few days and nights, everything seemed alright but... England did something America found just about unforgivable.

"You did WHAT while I was asleep?!" America asks while yelling, obviously very torn.  
"... I shipped them off to their countries." England says.

All England gets as a response is a punch to the face.

"They're only babies! Who knows how long they'll be like that? They probably can't fend for themselves yet and-" America runs out of words. He pulls his glasses off to wipe away forming tears, then putting the glasses back on. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"Watch your lan-" America forces his palm down on England's mouth, making him stop talking.  
"I said get the fuck out of my house before I THROW YOU BACK HOME!"

England can see the fury in America's eyes, it's too familiar to the look of rejection he got from France.  
"Alright, I'll go pack my stuff up..." He says with a scared and upset tone. He turns around to walk, failing to hold in his tears.

As England walks off, America stands back and ponders out loud. "They can't grow properly on their own... I'll have to do something about that."

* * *

"Big bro!"  
"Ah, watch your step lil dude!"

America bends down and holds out his arms for Australia, Australia falling right into them.  
The two softly laugh.  
"What's new?" America asks.  
"Um... Um... Hasn't it been like a week since ya came ta visit matey?" Australia asks.  
"Oh yeah." America laughs some more, picking the toddler Australia - now with brown hair - up. "But I think I have something you'll be excited about!"  
Australia happily laughs and flails his arms. "What is it, what is it?"  
"I'll show you."

America jogs in the direction he came from, while keeping a secure grip on Australia. Ducking and weaving through the wildlife proves to be no challenge for America, as if he's done it thousands of times. When he comes to a stop, they arrive at a beach. There's a ship near the shore and a young child with dark blonde hair resting on the sand, looking half asleep and accompanied by a very fluffy sheep.  
"Kiwi!" Australia says with excitement, jumping straight out of America's arms to run up to New Zealand.

New Zealand opens one eye and stands up. "'Strali!" He happily calls back.  
The twins give each other a hug before Australia starts digging a trench in the sand. New Zealand uses the piled up sand that was thrown aside by Australia to get to work on a sandcastle.  
America watches from the distance, and pulls out a camera. "So cute..." He says as he takes a picture. "It's so cool how we have access to future technology for being countries and plot reasons so we can reminisce and cry about moments we catch on camera..." He softly chuckles. "Ah, sorry... Ruined the ending to the chapter didn't I?"


	14. Can't hide it forever

"Is it all god to go mate?"  
"Sure is dude!"

America crawls out from under the desk, hearty smile and thumbs are up.  
"It's so cool how we get all this tech from the future, eh mate?" Australia rhetorically asks his older brother, pressing down on the power button of his PC. It doesn't look at all old either, it looks like it's from 2007 for some reason... Uh, don't question it, alright?

"So, what do I have to set up again?" Australia looks up at America as his PC powers on.  
"Well, we a private site just for us called WorldBook... It's kinda like Facebook but people won't screen cap our conversations and our bosses can't look at em." America lists the first. "And somehow we've gotten access to Skype, which is where the camera will come in handy. You can talk to other countries face to face without leaving your room!"  
"So I can nag Kiwi without having to swim over to his place?" Australia bounces in his chair.  
"Yeah! I already set up your accounts actually! Here's your login." America hands Australia a small sheet of paper.  
"Thanks mate." Australia slaps America on the back and begins typing away and clicking everywhere on the screen. Setting up the accounts on everything... He scrolls through Skype to check his contacts.

"Eh? Who's that?"  
"That's France..."  
"Why do I already have him added? I don't think I could easily trade with him..."

America takes a moment to reply. He swallows some slight nerves that were forming before spitting out his words. "He's our dad."

"...Fucking what?"  
Australia turns his chair around to look at America.  
"Y-yeah... I was actually there when you were born. I guess it's about time to tell you, and I know mum never would so... Follow me." America breaks open a soft smile, then starts walking to the living room.  
Australia's face is crunched with emotion. Shocked, confused, teary-eyed, mad... All rolled up into one. Either way, he uses his legs to push himself up and out of his chair, shuffling across his wooden floor, his bare feet resist the entire way.

The two take a seat on one of the two sofas set out, a coffee table to separate them.

"So... You might not remember, but you were born blonde... Just as the first stepping stone."  
Australia glares. "Then how come I'm a natural brunette now?"  
"Well, your hair looked like it would burn even with the slightest exposure to the sun... Heh, we countries work in funny ways. A-anyway... That's because both your parents were blonde..."  
Australia doesn't reply, letting America explain some more.  
America lets out a nervous chuckle. "A-and even if you could get a brunette from two blondes... T-the last country mom was with was France that one night... I invited them over to Thanksgiving... They were so loud, had to sleep on the couch that night too."

America slightly tilts his gaze away from Australia. "Ehe... Your eyes looked so full of wonder and excitement. Dad would have loved taking care of you..." America chokes a little, trying to hold back some tears.  
Australia simply sits in silence. He bows his head down before burying his face into his hands. "Aw hell... Mum you..." Through the cracks in his hold, tears drip through onto the ground.  
"D-don't worry, I didn't find out in the best circumstances either... Mom hid this fact away from me as well." America tries to reassure Australia. "Um, how about you give him a call? Once you've got rid of your tears of course... Erm, lemme just check what time it is at his place..." America stands up, walking off again.

"What kind of sick mother are ya mum?" Australia wipes away his tears with his arm, some drops are caught by his hairs, then looking at his slightly wet arm, smirking a little. "Well, you always told me that I was going to be as hairy as a frog, I guess that's what you meant by that." Taking a deep breath in before getting his ass off the couch by standing up.  
"Ah, we can call him, it's early morning where he is." America says as he walks back into the room.

* * *

"Time to stalk Angelterre's page some more... What's this? Skype call from Australia? Oh yes, America said he'd make us contacts... I guess I'll help him test out his connection."  
France accepts the call, and the two are popped into a web-cam call.  
"Bonjour darling." France greets with a warm smile. His hair doesn't seem to have been brushed yet, which is surprising for one such as France.  
"G'day." Australia greets back, looking a little nervous. He observes France as much as he can, the only thing they seemingly have in common is the amount of body hair and probably physical build, but what's on the surface doesn't always matter.

"You don't seem to be lagging, that's a good sign! I thought it would be rather terrible down there..." France softly giggles.  
"Yeah... Um..." Australia starts sweating, not knowing what to say. "In all honesty, I just wanted to finally talk to you."  
France's happy expression chances to a little surprised with a dash of confused. "Why me? I don't know if I can offer you anything..."  
"I know this probably isn't how you'd like it to be, but..." Australia pauses, taking time to think his words out. "It's not like mum would have told you, probably ever."  
"Mama...? Are you referring to Angelterre England?" France asks.  
Australia nods, softly smiling. "The last time you remember getting it on? Well, that lead to me and New Zealand... I'm your son."

France's pupils shrink, as if his mind stopped working and is checking for a solution. They widen back up and start overflowing with tears. "S...Son..." He cracks a smile. "I... I have another son..." He chuckles despite his conflicted tears. "I've missed so many birthdays and christmases and..." Picking away his tears then throwing them away, he can barely look at Australia without breaking down more. "I'm sorry. I have to go." France then hangs up the Skype call.

"That went well." America says a little bluntly.  
"Oh yeah, did ya tell Kiwi?" Australia suddenly perks up. "If you did we could go visit dad together! He'd probably be able to fill a pool with his tears at that point."  
America smiles. "Well, I haven't told him yet, but let's head over! Dad's probably going to smother you with kisses and hug you till you pass out."

* * *

"Angelterre... How you wound me. Will it ever stop with you? Hm... I think I'll have to go and teach you a lesson, and let's just say I've gone too long without the embrace of another being... Ohonhon! You're going to have it real rough tonight, here's hoping it pains you as much as this pains me."


	15. I'm running out of smut ideas, help

"The light in his bedroom is on... Time to strike." France chuckles. The air around him is tense and eerie, even Russia would be a little scared. Turning the knob then pulling it, the front door opens; looks as if England didn't lock it. France opens it slowly enough that it doesn't make a noise. Taking off his shoes and placing them under the coatrack so his steps are more silent and stealthy. He rushes up the stairs, going so fast that he almost floats. He tip-toes towards England's bedroom door, light emits from under the door, it's a soft yellow colour.

"That's enough of this story for tonight. I hope it starts getting good in the next chapter or two because so far it feels like a chore to read..." England says to himself, closing his book and removing his glasses that he uses for reading. He places them on the bedside table next to his bed, underneath the lamp that gently and barely lights up the room. A slightly open drawer below the surface of the table has a piece of cloth dangling from it.

"Angelterre..." France chants from behind the door, hoping to misguide England's attention.

England's hairs stand on end. "W-what?!" He looks all around the room and even checks under the bed. There's no sign of France. Once he looks up at the walls again, his bedroom door is suddenly wide open. England grasps at his blankets out of slight fear. A chill crawls up his spine as he feels someone breathing heavily onto his back.

"Why didn't you tell me Angelterre?" France asks, pushing England down on all fours.  
"What are you talking about?!" England gasps, shaking. He tries turning his head around to look at France.

Grabbing the back of England's head and forcing his face deep into the mattress and blankets of the bed, France gives off a smirk. "Oh, just my sons that you hid from me for years." He makes it sound as if it's no big deal at first, but the force of the grip

England's eyes shrink and he tenses up, almost choking on his words. "How did you-?!"  
"Ohhonhonhon... Let's discuss the details later..." France insists, slowly pulling his pants down. "Do you know how long I've gone without this? It's going to feel so good..." He slaps England's ass before clawing into his pants and ripping them right off.  
"France!" England yelps in a high pitch, cheeks turning red out of just about instinct at this point.  
"I'm going to make you feel how I feel..."

Firmly gripping onto England's butt-cheeks, France stabs himself into England without hesitation. England squeaks out a somewhat pained yelp as France rams right into his G-spot from the get-go.  
France chuckles. "Do you like that? How about I go beyond that?" A sudden and powerful thrust is motioned out, England lets out another yelp. His face looks conflicted with both pleasure and pain.  
France squeezed England's thighs, England moaning in response with a dash of pained groans.

"Fr... France..." England stutters out, gasping slightly. He's already slightly sweating.

"Tired already? Too bad. I still have loads more where that came from." France's chuckle almost sounds satanic. He scrapes his nails down England's thighs, using one hand to grab onto England's surprisingly hard ding-dong. Instead of gently stroking it, he tugs on it, as if trying to pull it off.  
England flinches, unsure if this is painful or pleasureful. His legs shake and cower under the sheer might that is France, his front half gives in and his face falls against the soft surface of the blanket that covers the bed. It's been washed recently due to the fresh smell, but it's all going to go to waste.

France reaches his head down along with England, taking hard bites at his neck. His teeth dig into England's skin and slam shut, but open back up as to not tear away any skin. Saliva and teeth marks remain, but the red marks are soon to show up. France even gently nibbles on England's ear before chowing down back at England's neck, eventually making his way down to his shoulders.

Combine this with the thrusting and tugging at Big Ben, England continues to recoil in both pleasure and pain. He gasps for air, for every thrust launches a chunk out of him.  
France almost plays with England as if he's a worn-out rag doll, tugging at floppy and loose ends and even looks as if he tries to break off a few small parts. He scratches England's legs, pulls at the tips of his fingers and tries to rip out his hair. "Enjoying this Angelterre? I sure am..." He chuckles. His voice sounds off in more than just one way. It sounds weighted down, eerie and like a lie.  
England's eyes begin to water, he bites down on his warm blankets to try and help ease the pain amidst the pleasure. A silent response is all he gives to France.

England eventually turns completely numb, he can't feel the pleasure or the pain. He lies there limp like a fried fish out of water, waiting until France has finished playing with him. He's been sucked dry of all energy, as if France took it to keep himself going. Back and forth, in and out, one and two, un and deux...

After what feels like hours but is barely half of one, France releases his load along with a long gas of relief from the sending party, letting England's exhausted body slam down onto the bed after France separates them both. France lets out a weighted and moist breath, feeling and sounding mostly satisfied. He then looks down at England, face turning neutral.

"Did it hurt? Did you lose your sense of feeling? Do you feel betrayed even?"

England simply lays there, not wanting to or even having the energy look at France. His eyes are fixated at nothing in particular and barely half open. He lays so still that it doesn't look like he takes a single breath.

France pulls his underwear and pants back up together, patting down his shirt afterwards and dusting off his pants. "I hope you felt all of those... It's exactly what I felt after finding out what you hid from me. Whatever reasons you have for doing so, they're immensely stupid." France pushes himself up and off the bed and bites down on his right knuckle as he looks at England, who is looking like a deflated balloon. "Who knows? I might have still loved you, but you flushed any potential feelings straight down the drain with your harsh actions..." Bending down to be at eye level with England, France then pulls on England's hair to get his attention. England makes a weak attempt to look France straight into his shining blue eyes, chilling with hatred, his green eyes look dull and drained in comparison.

"How did I ever fall in love with you? It's been heartbreak after heartbreak with you... You've just about destroyed me from the inside by destroying the love I give you." France flings England's head back, England responding like a weak rag doll and rolling across the bed a little. France straightens his knees to stand up properly. "If you still loved me, then you would have said it."

Dragging his feet across the floor from the bed to the exit, France exits the room and slams the door shut. "What have we become..?" He silently weeps to himself, bowing his head down, beginning to walk down the stairs, to exit the house and take the long walk home...he puts his shoes back on first, of course.

"I've ruined everything... It's all my fault. France, don't leave me... Please..." England coughs, arms dangling over the edge of the bed. "I don't want to be alone anymore. I..." Hs eyelids shake, he tries to force them to stay open. They shut tight, and he snaps into a slumber; his body forcing him to recharge for tomorrow.


	16. I legit can't think of a chap title

"Why do you want me to look after you?" France asks, almost scoffing.

England lays in bed and almost his entire body is covered by the blankets. His face is heating up. "The boys don't..." He pauses to cough. "want to be near me right now... They're saying I'm being insufferable."

France looks at England's face, sweat dripping down his forehead. "Want me to go get you a cold, wet towel?"  
"T-that would be great..." England replies, smiling softly.  
"Man, this illness is serious! You're being NICE to me!" France almost recoils in fake-shock. "Well, I'll go do it." France flicks his hair before swishing his hips to turn around and then walk out of the room, down to the bathroom. He closes the door on his way out of the bedroom.

"Why is he acting like this anyway? There's gotta be a catch..." France huffs on his way to the bathroom. Opening the door he sees a neatly folded pile of white towels, with a multi-coloured one rested on the top of them. "Didn't know he had a gay pride towel..." He picks the small towel up, like ones he has seen before, it has a tag on it.  
"Seychelles...?" France reads it out loud. He growls a little before taking the towel. And walking back upstairs. He halts before the door as he hears yelling from the other side. Eventually the yelling subsides, giving France the signal to bust back in.

A single light hovers above England, France lunges up and catches the light in the blanket.

"F-France!" England pushes himself up, still looking rather sickly.

France turns away from England.

"Ah, what a beautiful little girl..." France smiles. "Blue eyes? No thick eyebrows? But I have a feeling your beautiful looks will change with time young missy... Who knows? You may even get black hair if you leave it in the sun too long!" He softly chuckles.  
"Let me see her..." England growls, coughing afterwards.  
"...Why should I?" France asks, turning his head to glance at England. "You didn't let me see see Australia or New Zealand, let alone tell me about them."

England jerks back, just about choking on his comeback. The longer he thinks about it, the more he thinks he deserves this. He bows his head down in defeat.

"Let's make this the last kid though, alright? I'm tired of this..." France sighs a little, brushing away some hair in Seychelles' face. "Don't worry dear, Papa will take care of you better than your Mama ever would." He softly laughs. "You should be feeling better soon Angelterre, I don't need to look after you. I guess I'll see you at the next world meeting." France scoffs slightly as he walks off.

* * *

Trying to forget about the incident of France kidnapping their child, he did his best to grind it out of his mind, he of course failed. He knew he had a daughter but he never saw her face...until-

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE MY DAUGHTER?!"

Seychelles crunches her face up to recoil, scared of what England will do as punishment.

"Just about none of your features match mine or France's! Are you merely saying this so I'll let you go?" England folds his arms and bumps his hips to the side.  
"F-father told me all about you and the day I was born." Seychelles starts, gulping beforehand. "You didn't even get a glimpse of my face, did you? But it's not like you'd recognise me if you did... Blue eyes to hazel to brown... Blonde hair to brown. At one point one of my eyebrows grew out of control too!" She softly laughs.

England glares at her, stepping forward. He reaches out and grabs one of her ponytails. Her hair sparkles and shines all on its own. "Magic flows through this... I've only seen something like this in my brothers and-" England jerks, freezing in place. Seychelles' hair slips through his fingers and thumps back down against her chest. It all snaps together in his head and England.(exe) has stopped responding.

"M-mother?"

England boots back up, shaking his head and clenching his fists. "This changes nothing. You're still my colony and I'll treat you as such." He says as sternly as he can. His face has a forced stern look, obviously trying to hide how he truly feels about the situation.  
Not wanting to accidentally anger England, Seychelles backs off and sighs. "I understand. I'll go to my room now..." She takes a deep breath before turning around and walking away.

England looks at Seychelles with some pity, sighing afterwards. "I was never there to watch her grow up... Now I know how France must have felt." The feeling pulls at his heartstrings, it feels as if his heart is being squeezed by thick string that goes right around. Looking at her walk rather glumly to her room, he perks up a little, having an idea on how he can start redeeming himself.

* * *

"Oh, good evening Seychelles." England greets as she walks into her room.  
Seychelles - dressed in long sleeved soft pink and white polka-dot PJs with matching pants - sleepily yawned with a little bit of confusion as she walked into her bedroom. England is sat next to her bed in a chair, with his reading glasses on. "Sometimes I feel rather lonely at night... I thought it would be nice to read you a bedtime story tonight." He says with a warm smile. He gently pets the bed. "Come on... You're not going to sleep on the floor are you?"

Seychelles walks towards her bed, pulling back the blankets then sliding underneath them, she rests her head on her soft pillow. "I didn't know you were the type to do this..."  
"Well, I'm not normally this soft to everyone... D-don't get too used to it." England replies, turning a little red due to embarrassment. "Now um, you don't mind if I start from where I left off, do you? It's at the start of chapter four..."

Seychelles smiles back at England. "Sure! But can you give me a run-down of what happened prior?" She asks.  
"Huh? Oh, of course." England smiles and it slowly softens up, becoming the smile of a gentle and loving mother. His eyes seemingly glitter with joy and wonder, probably because he was looking at his charmingly cute daughter...but of course he wouldn't be one to admit something like that. He clears his throat and gets ready to explain. "Well, it started off when..."


	17. Finally getting marriage counselling

"S-so um...You all know why you've been called here today, right?"

Canada sighs, Australia and America are shouting jokes at each other and drown out his voice.

"HEY MATE, WHAT DO YOU GET WHEN YOU CROSS A SHEEP WITH A KANGAROO?"  
"I DUNNO, WHAT?"  
"A WOOLY JUMPER!"  
"PFFFFTTT AHAHHAHAA!"

"You know what that was a terrible joke Australia, wow, how did you even laugh at that America?" NZ quickly questions.

Seychelles sighs and gets out a stick, throwing it at the wall so it makes a loud bang. She fist-bumps as it snaps in half.

Everyone turns silent.

"Uh, thanks for that sis... Ahem, do I have to repeat that?" Canada clears his throat.  
America and Australia stare blankly at Canada, and he sighs once more.

"This is an emergency meeting. Our parents have been apart for way too long now, and from both sides of the coin it's obvious they still hold feelings for each other!" He exclaims. "And we gotta to something about this eh!"  
"I agree with Canadia!" America smirks, chuckling a little as Canada glares at him. "You three wouldn't have happened if this wasn't true!" He adds, pointing at his three younger siblings.  
The three blankly stare at their older brother.  
"So uh, what do we do about that?" NZ asks, leaning in.

"Well, the new century is approaching... I think we should trick them into strengthening the relationship between their countries for new century good luck or some bullshit. If all goes well they'll be fucking within a week." America suggests.  
"...Well it's not like anything bad could come out of that, right?" Australia comments, chuckling.  
"But how are we gonna do that America?" Canada asks with a sigh.  
"Ah! I think I have an idea!" Seychelles raises her hand.  
The brothers all peer in to hear what she has to day.  
She gives them all a smile. "Alright, so here is how it goes..."

* * *

"Aw come on mom! This'll be good for your economy, I'm sure of it!"  
"Yeah mum! Maybe you can finally get some good-quality wine...and food."  
England stares at his two sons, America and Australia.  
"There's something funny about this...I can smell it." England says in response, leaning into his sons, both being a little taller than him by around an inch or a few centimetres.  
"Don't you want to improve your relationship with dad?"  
"It's not like it's too much of a secret..."

England folds his arms, his children were right. He'd try just about anything to get back with France at this point. It's been so many centuries without him. Despite having his brothers and children around him, he couldn't help but always feel a little lonely.

He looks up at his children, face turning red out of a bit of embarrassment.

"...Fine, I'll do it. But not for the reasons you think it is for!" England replies to them. "It's just to strengthen ties between our countries, nothing more!" He adds, not wanting to admit it's to try and get back with France.

America and Australia smile, both giving a hearty slap to their Mother's back. This of course causes England to fall over.  
"Oh geez, sorry mum!"  
"I'll pull you up!"  
"Don't touch me." England growls at the both of them, probably not accidentally wanting to be thrown around by America.

* * *

"So, what do you think of the idea papa?"  
"Yeah pa, isn't it a superb idea?"  
France lets his head flop to one side, and he stares at Canada and NZ, whom stand before him.  
"While the idea isn't bad, something about the entire thing...I can't put my finger on it but something doesn't seem right." He says, letting his head flop to the other side.  
"Well, look at it this way...You get an excuse to talk to mama a lot more!"  
"And we all know that you are just looking for a reason to be near him so he can't say no..."

It was true. France's stalkerish tendencies weren't working anymore around England, and it only made himself yearn for any form of embrace from the Englishman even more. All he really wanted was to be truly loved again and this was the way to do it.

He pulls his children in for a hug, Canada's head just about falls off over France's shoulder due to the sudden rush of the pull. NZ squishes his face barely over France's shoulder.

"Alright, I'll go through with it." France says with a skip to his voice.

Canada and NZ smile their sweet and soft-looking smiles.  
"Good on you Pa!"  
"Hope all goes well Papa."  
"Merci beaucoup my darlings." France says with a smile, letting go of his children and ruffling their hair.

* * *

The Entente Cordiale... Multiple agreements signed so France and England could put the bitter past behind them and set forward together with a fresh new outlook of each other. For some reason I think Lord Hima forgot about this part of history and still thinks England and France are bitter towards each other but what are we gonna do about that?

"...There, that's the last of it..." England sighs with relief, putting his pen down.  
France puts his pen down as well. He rests his elbows on the table and in turn rests his head on his hands. "Well...I don't have anything to do after this, how about we-"  
"No."

France is awestruck, not able to understand why England rejected an offer to go out on a date. He was merely trying to further strengthen their bond with the offer of a date.  
"If I am allowed to ask... W...why Angelterre?"

England breaks his eye contact from France by closing his eyes and flicking his head away. He stands up before pushing his chair back and walks off, not saying a word.

France sighs, watching England walk out of the room. "Angelterre..."


	18. I'm just trying to finish this up tbh

"Okay dudes! The plan we put forth about 40 years ago was working until around a few months ago. They almost kissed dammit!" America explains, slamming down on the table.  
The slam makes Canada jump in his skin, and he remains silent for the time being.  
"Well we need to examine what happened and why everything went to shit." Australia says.  
NZ sighs. "Well, from what I remember-" NZ gets cut off.  
"Things were going well until the end of World War 2, yeah?" Seychelles asks.  
"Can I ask why I'm here?" Asks the elephant in the room, that being Hong Kong.  
"It's either hang out here or clean England's car, again." Seychelles replies to him.

"E-everybody quiet down please!" Canada asks of his siblings. Everyone goes silent. Canada then clears his throat.  
"So uh, what I think happened is that they were too scared to get too close if you know what I mean, eh?" He starts off. "And then...after the war, I think something happened and mama was left out of something papa and it was chaos from there..."  
"Well, what do we do? The writer needs to finish this fic off by next week because if she doesn't she'll be stressing over the fact that she will suddenly be a disgrace at maths and-"  
NZ pulls Australia back, covering his mouth so he can shut up. "If you talk on any longer you spoil endings for like, 5 potential fanfics and all your info will quickly become outdated, so just stop."  
"Um... I don't have an idea this time." Seychelles admits, scratching her head in embarrassment.

"I think I have an idea..." Says Hong Kong.  
"You do? Tell us!" America leans in, eyes sparkling.

"Well..." Hong Kong leans in himself as the others gravitate towards the centre.  
"Two words: Blind. Date."

The children pull back and chatter a little bit to themselves.  
"Um, first off... How are we going to trick them into doing it?" America asks, glaring at Hong Kong.

"Don't worry, I can write some convincing letters...England doesn't recognise my english handwriting and France hasn't even seen mine." Hong Kong can't help but smirk. "And with England out of the house, I can clear out the fridge and fill it with sushi so I'd be glad to be the one to get him out of the house."  
"That's a great idea eh!" Canada applauds Hong Kong.

"But wait!" Seychelles bumps in. "That's not enough on it's own! We should stalk their date so it goes smoothly! One slip up from the random public could mean disaster..." She says.  
"Good idea. I need to get some space between me and Russia anyway." America says with a sigh.  
"DID YOU SERIOUSLY MAKE A FUCKING SPACE RACE JOKE?" Australia suddenly shouts, looking ready to crack up laughing.  
"Australia please..." NZ sighs.  
"Can't you two just kiss and make up?" Canada asks with a sigh. "You were banging like a few years ago."  
America's face turns red out of embarrassment. "Shut up, all of you." He rests his hands against his mouth, now glaring at nothing in particular.  
"You bottom, don't you?" Hong Kong teases.  
"I-I said shut up!" America pouts a little. "I'm the leader here and you all have to listen!"

Canada leans back into his chair and sighs once more. "But, are we going through with Hong Kong's idea?"  
"...I suppose so." America replies. "Do what you gotta do, inform us of the date and location ASAP. Got that?"  
"Of course." Hong Kong nods.

* * *

"Hey Iggy douche." Hong Kong says non-chilantly.  
"What is it Hong Kong?" England asks, looking at him.  
Hong Kong holds out an envelope with England's name on it. "I found this on the doorstep like an hour ago. It's for you."  
England graciously takes the letter, ripping one of the shorter sides of it then shaking out the contents of the envelope.

The note reads. "Hello Mr. England, or UK if you prefer. I have been admiring you for some time now and I would like to personally meet you. How does 12pm lunch sound tomorrow at that Cafe Mr. Spain runs? I'll be waiting until 1. Hope to see you there!"  
England stares blankly at the note for a bit.  
"Well...I don't see the harm in it." England comments. "And I highly doubt me and France will ever work out again...tomorrow at 12 was it?"  
"Well, I'm glad you're trying it out England." Hong Kong says. "I'm gonna go now." He then tries to shuffle away, looking a little awkward as he does it.

"If I sent it yesterday, then it should be arriving today, about now..."

Meanwhile at France's house, he hears a ringing of a bike bell. "Ah! That must be the mail!" He gets up from his couch and twirls his way to the door. He swings it open. Rays from the sun above shower his face and the gentle breeze gently pulls on his hair. He walks over to his mailbox, opening it and pulling out just a single envelope.  
"Hm? What's this?"

Ripping it open he pulls out the contents of it.  
"Dear Mr. France, this may sound sudden and strange but I have been admiring you from the sidelines for some good months now...I wanted to come and meet you around 11am-ish at Mr. Spain's cafe tomorrow. If I'm not there by 12, forgive me. I will reschedule. Hope to see you there!"  
France scratches his chin. His rough stubble makes for a scraping sound when he scratches it.  
"Maybe I should move on from Angelterre...living in the past is never good for a country after all..." France gently whips his hair out of his face.

* * *

"America at your service!"  
"If we're gonna stalk their date, we should arrive before or around 11 tomorrow to prevent suspicion..."  
"Oh! It's this thing! I hear ya Hong Kong!"  
"Whatever you do, don't act as if we're following them on purpose...now tell the others, alright?"  
"Got it. Cya tomorrow!"


	19. A match from the past

"Well, France is here..." America attempts to whisper loudly with his mouth full. "It's almost one and he is loosing his patience..."  
"Please be quiet...we can't afford to- ah! There's England!" Canada whispers, ducking his attention back down to his food.

England swings open the door, causing the bell above it to ring.  
He is dressed in a knitted green vest that goes over a plain white top. His pants are a tan colour and his shoes are a simple charcoal black.  
"Um, anyone here on a blind date?" He asks, looking around the cafe.

"I am!" France says, standing up so everyone can get a better look at his long blue coat that covers most of his legs, with the only visible part of his legs being black boots.

The two of them freeze upon realising who their date is.  
"Y-you!?"  
America can barely contain his laughter, Australia just about having to choke him so he doesn't laugh and blow their cover.

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" France asks, almost in tears.  
England steps back, but his shocked expression softens into a smile. "Well, I guess I found my excuse to spend some actual time with you. Am I dreaming again?"  
France looks absolutely confused, yet intrigued. "What?"  
England walks up to France and grabs the nearby free chair, pushing it closer towards himself so it's ready to be sat on. "More often than not, I dream of those years we had together, and living out the day I ruined it for the both of us...I've always wanted to try and turn back that clock but I suppose this is good enough." England places himself in the chair, getting his arms out and resting them on the table.

France says nothing, sitting back down in his seat.

Spain rushes over to the two, his normal sweet smile is on display but you can tell that he's more than simply happy about what's going on. He pulls out a small notepad and a pencil. "So, are you finally ready to-"  
"I'll have an espresso." France quickly says.  
"You don't have tea do you?"  
"I'll get right on it." Spain says with a smile, writing their orders down before running off.

France clasps his hands together before raising them to act as a table for his head. "Angelterre..." He averts his gaze, not knowing what to say. "I..." He sighs, closing his eyes to reopen them and have them staring right at England's.  
"...want me to start?" England offers.  
France gently nods his head to responds.

Scratching the back of his head before starting, England clears his throat before speaking.  
"I just have so much I want to say to you..." A slight blush appears on England's face. "I'll start by saying sorry."  
France flinches at these words. Sorry? This isn't the England that he knows as of now, and isn't the England he fell in love with long gone?

"I've hurt you in so many ways...deep down I never truly wanted to do that. I just did things that I thought would get me closer to you again." England continues. "And I know where I made my biggest mistake...during that tense century..." He flops his head down. "All you wanted was to go back to the way we were before it. But I just kept pushing and pushing and..." He simply stops talking right there, not wanting to continue.

France reachers one hand out to England, pulling his head back up and wiping England's cheeks dry with his thumb.  
"Don't cry Angelterre...it's not all your fault." France says. "I was pretty terrible as well, even long after...I thought you just wanted to pour salt into my broken heart so I could feel the burn of it, but I never stuck around for an explanation like one should."

"Here are your beverages guys!" Spain walks up to their table, placing down small plates that carry cups to match their desired drink. "...oh! Sorry for interrupting!" He quickly runs off as to not completely destroy the moment they're having.

England slowly takes his cup, looking down into it before taking a sip. "W-well, now that we have gotten those words out of the way...how about we take a walk after this?"  
"A walk on a beautiful day like this sounds lovely." France replies with a smile, taking his cup as well.

"Yes! We're off to a good start!"  
"Don't celebrate yet boys, it's not over yet."  
"Shhhh! They'll hear us...keep quiet..."

* * *

"They're moving, let's follow before we loose sight of them!" America gets out of his chair as his parents exit the Cafe. His siblings mimic his actions but they're stopped by their uncle Spain.

"I know what you kids are doing...and I haven't seen Francis this happy in ages. I guess finally letting all that emotional baggage go has helped him. Thank you on behalf of my side of the family." Spain spreads his arms wide and pulls all his nephews and niece in for a big hug. "Just don't force it, alright?"  
"Thank you Spain...or as you always wanted me to call you, el tío." Canada chuckles.  
Spain's eyes begin to water. "Stop making so many dreams come true all at once I'll drown."

Spain frees the kids from the hug and wipes his eyes. "Now, go follow em. This should be a perfect day for em, make sure it is."  
America looks at Spain, slowly swinging his arm to give him the thumbs up. "Of course we will."

Outside, the sky is clear and the warmth of the sun seems just right.

England 'reluctantly' reaches out to grab France's hand. France knows what he's trying to do and latches on to England's hand with his own.

"So, what'e the plan? Anywhere you want to go in particular?" France asks, looking to his right to look at England.  
England shakes his head. "I didn't plan anything..."

The children follow their parents, trying to blend in with the crowd.

"What should we do?" Australia asks in a whisper.  
"We need to get them alone... I know just the place to direct them to." America smirks, pointing northwest from where he stood. There was a tall tree atop a hill. "We have to get them over there."

"Hey guys, did I miss anything?"

Canada and Seychelles are quick to grab Hong Kong and cover his mouth. "You finish fixing the contents fridge then?"  
Hong Kong nods. "I quickly got bored so I thought I'd hang out with you guys."  
"This makes the group a little to bi-" America flinches as he's grabbed from behind. He freezes before turning his head. "Oh...hello Russia."  
Russia almost squeezes America. "I thought I saw you around here little sunflower...you're not trying to run from me now are you?"  
" _Help._ " America pleads as a whispers.  
Canada softly giggles before waving goodbye. "Have fun with your boyfriend."

Russia lifts America off the ground. "How about we have a race to the moon?"  
"Y-our'e...s...suffocating me..." America gasps as Russia takes him away.

"So um, what are we doing?" Hong Kong breaks the awkward tension by asking in a whisper.  
"Oh, we have to get the lovebirds over there." NZ says, pointing were America pointed before him.

"That shouldn't be a problem. We just have to get this place crowded..." Hong Kong says. "But how we're gonna do that..."  
The siblings all look at Canada.  
"W-why you looking at me like that eh?" He asks, a little nervous.  
"You know why..." His siblings say in synch.  
Canada steps back a little, sighing. He knows what they want him to do.

* * *

"A rather large crowd is forming around here..." England shudders a little bit.  
"They're forming to look at...ugh, whatever it is I can't see." France shrugs.

"Is it working?" Canada quietly asks.  
"Yes. Now crush one of the apples so they don't leave." Australia whispers from the crowd.

Canada - who was throwing apples in the air from a basket counts the beat he throws the apples at and manages to punch one into smithereens. The crowd gasps in amazement and suddenly others are seemingly magnetised toward the crowd.

"Should we go to a more quiet place?" England suggests.  
"That sounds like a splendid idea." France looks around, seeing the empty little hill with the tree not to far off. "How about there?"  
England, getting a familiar feeling from the place nods without hesitation, just about dragging France off in the direction of the hill.  
"We did it!" NZ says with a whisper.  
"It's up to them now..." Seychelles adds.  
"Ah, I can finally stop..." Canada punches one last apple into oblivion then takes a seat on the ground, rather drained from keeping that up for so long on purpose. He comes visible and waves to the crowd. Most of them clap before dispersing.

* * *

The couple makes their way up the hill and collapse under the tree. France is rested right up against it while England opts to lean on France.

The gentle breeze chimes quietly, and it causes the leaves above to rustle.

"Just like the days before all this...yeah?" England shifts his head up and looks at France.  
"Mmmm...yes." France wraps one arm around England, pulling him in a little. "You know...I'm getting a bit of déjà vu..."  
"Yes, this place does feel familiar..." England agrees, nodding slightly.  
France looks around at the surroundings in front of him. Nothing out of the ordinary. While he would prefer to enjoy this moment, his curiosity gets the best of him. He has been here in this exact spot, and he knows it...but when was that? He stands up and walks to the other side of the tree.  
"France?" England gets up to follow.

On the back of the tree at around knee-high, there's a small heart carving. In the heart it reads

"Francis..."  
"Plus Arthur..."

The two men look at each other, finally figuring out what's so familiar about this place.

 _"There! I carved it France!"_  
 _"Francis and Arthur...don't you like our human names little Angelterre?"_  
 _"I...I guess...but why can't we just go by-"_  
 _"This isn't between our countries, it's between us...Arthur and Francis."_  
 _"W-wash your slimy hands before grabbing mine you frog!"_  
 _"Ohohohn! You're so cute when you pout..."_  
 _"I am not cute!"_  
 _"This and more are why I love you...just you wait, when we're older..."_  
 _"When we're older I'll be stronger than you, and I'll...I'll..."_  
 _"You'll be my wife?"_  
 _"N-NO!"_  
 _"You're turning redder than a ripe tomato...how about I give you a kiss on the cheek yes?"_

England looks back at France. "I don't know why, but now I can remember that day as if it was yesterday..."  
France does the same, looking at England. "As can I..." France pulls England into his grasp, wrapping his arms all away around him. "Arthur."  
"Francis..." England utters, or should I say Arthur?  
France - or Francis - leans in, and their lips smack together once more after what feels like forever. The wind dances around them and leaves toss themselves at the two...it's finally a new beginning.


	20. Where are they now?

_It's now the year 2016, with Anglo-French relations reaching an all-time high, arguably higher than that pre WWII period. In no specific order, the two lived through that meme-tastical musical, Japan met a guy and he started drawing out all the countries' adventures throughout history and Sealand was officially disowned by the family so he put himself up on eBay. You know, normal things to happen after the year 2000 struck...but what about the love birds themselves?_

"Huh? Did I fall asleep again? I'm telling you Francis this movie is worse than my cooking, why do you insist on watching this fifty times over?"  
"I need to analyse every possibly way in which they destroy the meaning of love in this film Arthur...you can go back to sleep."

Instead of going back to sleep right away, Arthur looks at the wedding photo on display. It's comfortably sitting on the end-table next to the couch. He reaches out for it, managing to grab it.

A detailed look shows Arthur wearing his wedding dress from all those years ago, and Francis kept his tuxedo as well. In the centre of the image, Francis is carrying Arthur bridal style and the two are smiling wide.

To a lookers left - which would be to the right if they were in the picture - stand America and Canada. America's suit seems to be a little ruffled up, and his patriotic tie isn't tucked in properly, his collar seems to be a mess as well and his shirt is simply slung over his shoulders instead of wearing it properly. Canada is more neat, but has opened for a shirt and classy vest instead of a suit, with the sleeves of his shirt neatly folded to just above his elbows.  
On the other side of the happy couple are Australia and New Zealand. Australia is wearing his suit but the sleeves are rolled up, and instead of a proper button-up shirt underneath, it seems to be a plain white t-shirt with his blue tie loosely hanging around his neck. NZ is the neater one of this pair as well, with a vest that matches the one Canada wears but his shirt is replaced with a white t-shirt.  
Below the couple is Seychelles, sitting on the ground with her arms wide. Her frilly, white and sleeveless dress covers all of her legs, having her feet poking out. She's wearing brown sandals that wrap above her ankles and show off her toes.

Arthur looks from left to right.  
"My darling children...Alfred, Matthew, Michelle, Jett and Cody." He lets out a relaxed sigh before putting the photo back.  
Francis pauses the movie and looks at Arthur. "Speaking of our children...when was the last time we all got together? Just us..."  
"...You know, I don't think it's ever been just the seven of us. Shall we arrange a dinner?" Arthur asks, looking back at his husband.  
"Right after I finish internally crying over this movie, Angelterre." Francis replies with a soft smile, pulling Arthur in and planting a kiss on his lips.


End file.
